I'm Only Human
by Cait Mur
Summary: SEASON 7 SPOILERS. Leaves off from the end of the S7 premiere. Daryl's POV. At Negan's compound, he finds a very familiar face. The pair, along with help from a certain Savior, escape the Sanctuary. (Bethyl slow burn.)
1. Chapter 1

**I'm Only Human**

 **WARNING:** SPOILERS! SO MANY SPOILERS! S7 SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE S7 PREMIERE.

 ** _A/N PT I:_** _The premiere made me so sad and I'm not cool with the story line they gave Daryl and I'm STILL not over Beth so here we fucking are. I know there's a ton of stories like this but I just…need Daryl to have a semblance of a happy ending. :(_

* * *

 _"I'm only human after all, don't put the blame on me."_

* * *

He'd forgotten how to breathe.

This was supposed to be the end. He wasn't supposed to still _be_. He _shouldn't_ be alive, lying there in the back of this god forsaken metal truck. He'd lost so much blood it was hard to see straight. It was hard to focus. Hard to believe anything was real.

For a minute, he thought, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was still asleep and this was all a nightmare, but when he rolled to one side, putting weight on his bad shoulder and the pain soared through him, he knew it was all very, very real.

Daryl was done. Done in all sense of the word, and he'd been done for a very long time. Maybe it had all started with Denise, but, if he was really honest with himself, it had started before that. Back when he lost Beth. There was something about _her,_ about that light being extinguished. He'd been devastated. And he was so sick and fucking tired of losing people.

Alexandria made it seem like things would be okay for a while. Yeah, maybe it was a bunch of clueless, privileged suckers who hadn't known the true danger of what was really out there, but it was better than anything they'd had. Daryl had a real bed, all to himself, for the first time in years.

But nothing good ever lasted for Daryl fucking Dixon, and now they were here and Abraham was dead and Glenn was - well, Glenn was dead because of him. He'd caused a man to die, a woman to be widowed and a child to be fatherless.

He couldn't stand to think about it, but there was no way around it. The scene unfolded quickly behind his eyes, making his stomach churn and bringing his throat to a close. Shock still consumed him, both emotionally and physically, but he knew, once that faded, the pain would be unbearable.

There was a sudden shift to his surroundings. The deep voice outside was gone, and all at once, he felt the truck jerk to life, shift into gear and begin moving.

Daryl felt each bump, swerve and turn. He was struggling to stay awake, though each time he closed his eyes he thought he might just rest. Just rest for _one_ moment, before snapping himself awake with a grunt. He _needed_ to stay awake. There was no telling what Negan and his men would do if they found him passed out in the back of the truck.

Despite his efforts, the blood loss was too great, and finally, his body gave up and Daryl succumbed to sleep.

* * *

"Get up, motherfucker."

Someone gripped his arm and pulled him straight across the back of the truck, pulling him out before he was ready. He couldn't get his body to cooperate with his brain, so he fell out the back of it, onto a very solid ground, the pain in his body now excruciating. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to _be_.

"I said, _get the fuck up_!"

Daryl wanted to tell them, whoever was yelling at him, that he couldn't. He physically couldn't right himself. And at this point, he just didn't fucking care.

A boot collided with his ribs, and the breath that was in his lungs was forced out with an ' _Oof!'_ and his limbs began to respond, coming up to cover himself as another boot collided with his cheekbone.

"Dwight!" A sharp voice broke through the air like a whip. Loud and cheerful, and although Daryl still couldn't see very well, he could _feel_ Negan's smile as he brought his hands to the neck of Daryl's shirt. He lifted him up, so Daryl could feel his breath on his lips. "That's no way to treat our new _guest_."

"Fuck. You," Daryl managed to spit out, squinting at Negan's dumb, fucking, asshole, shit-licker face.

Negan chuckled, letting Daryl's shirt go. He crumpled instantly, falling to the ground, his head pounding, his shoulder numb and his legs completely useless. He was _theirs_ at that moment and he knew it.

"Get a fucking stretcher, you animal," Negan commanded Dwight. "And get him to the motherfucking medic."

Dwight left, though Daryl could see, through glimpses, he was still being guarded by two men - one with a knife, the other with an assault rifle. Not that they needed them. Daryl was definitely not going anywhere.

The stretcher came quickly. Dwight and some other asshole lifted him carelessly onto it. He wished they would just leave him where he was, laying on the floor, in the dirt, to die. It was useless. He would be useless to them. To himself. He'd been useless to Merle, useless to Beth, useless to Denise, useless to Abraham, useless to Glenn. He'd destroyed Maggie's life, the baby's life, disappointed the group - his family. And he was of absolutely no help to them here.

They brought him through the front door of a larger building, down a first hall, and then a second, through a smaller door, into what was clearly a place meant for the ill and the wounded. There were various cabinets filled with boxes and bottles, plus three beds lined up beside each other. Between them were those metal I.V. poles with fresh saline bags hung on the hooks.

They dumped him onto one of the hard beds and he winced in pain, grabbing his shoulder as he did so.

"Pussy," Dwight spat at him, turning away. He and the other man who'd carried him left the room, leaving him to himself and his thoughts. His body was tired, just from the short journey from the truck to this bed, so another black-out continued to threaten him. He would welcome it, he thought, the blankness of being unconscious. So he didn't have to remember.

And then, the door slammed open, startling him.

"Hello," a soft-spoken man said, closing the door behind him and coming towards Daryl's side. He had a pair of scissors in his hands and Daryl rolled flat on his back, his heart, broken, hollow and incomplete, facing the pointed edges.

He wished he would just stab him - just sink the blades into his heart and let him bleed out, right here, all over the white blanket. Nothing mattered anymore - he had nothing left to fight for. He was alone, so completely and utterly alone in the world right now. Even if he somehow made it out of here, even if he somehow snuck out right under Negan's nose, there was no way they would welcome him back into Alexandria. He would be banished, if not by Rick, then by Maggie for sure. It was over.

Instead of the blades sinking into his ribcage, however, Daryl felt cool metal against his belly, work its way all the way up to his chin. The man was cutting him out of his shirt, discarding the bloody garment so he could have a closer look at him.

He had a kind face - long, with a heavy, white beard and long, white hair, tied back in a ponytail. The features reminded him of Hershel, which made his heart ache even more. He inspected his wound, then caught Daryl's eye.

"I need to fish the bullet out of your arm. And then you're going to need some stitches and antibiotics." The man took a cloth and soaked it with alcohol. The sharp scent stung Daryl's nostrils - but it was a welcome feeling, contrasting against the pain he'd been feeling non-stop. And then, he pressed it to the wound, and Daryl's eyes crossed as a pair of tweezers entered the hole the bullet Dwight had fired, had formed.

Consciousness wasn't a choice at this point as his vision swam away from him, then back. The pain was making him numb - his body creating it's own anesthetic.

And then finally, it was over. The last shard of bullet was pulled out and the doctor, whatever his name was, smiled down at him, satisfied.

"All done. I'll send Beth in to patch you up."

Daryl's vision swam again. _Beth_ , he thought sadly. _If only_.

The room went silent again, the door closing as the doctor exited, and then opened again as someone new came in the room. And nothing could have ever prepared him for it.

She looked just like she did when she left him. Straw blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, little fly-aways framing her round face. There were dark circles under her big blue orbs of eyes that widened as if in slow motion as she took him in. And he did the same - her little button nose, thin, pink lips, freckles scattered across her nose. Her face flushed, and she sucked in a deep breath as Daryl tried to move.

"No," she said, scrambling to his bedside. "Don't move. I need to…I need patch you up." Her voice shuddered. "Daryl."

Her hands were on him, and something inside of him exploded. The pain was still there, but _warmth_ spread from her hands, touching - no, grasping at him, like she was trying to make sure he was real.

"Beth," he managed to mumble, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to keep his eyes focused on her. It looked like her. Felt like her, but he still wasn't sure if this was real.

"Daryl," she said, her voice sweet and gentle, just like her fingers, just like _her_. He had lost her. He hadn't been able to save her. "I don't have much time. I need to stitch up your wound. They'll know if I linger."

 _They?_

"But how?" he asked, his voice sounding foreign. She shook her head. _Beth_ shook her head, and then went to work on him.

"I don't know much," she was whispering to him, the needle she was guiding sliding through his flesh. He sucked in a breath, "but I made it out of Grady. They saved me there, and then they let me go. I went towards Virginia - Noah, he'd always said we'd go. I thought…I thought I could find you all," she sunk the needle in again, "but Negan's people, they found me instead."

"You died," Daryl said between his teeth as she finished another stitch. "I saw you. I made sure. You were dead. Beth, you were dead." He wished he wasn't in so much pain. He wished he was more sure that this was _real_.

"Sh," she said sternly, her eyes widening at him. "Not here." Her hands were at his shoulder, moving steadily, the pain familiar now. She pulled the thread taut, finishing his stitches and then turned towards him, her wide eyes full of worry.

"Beth," he said, trying to focus on her. She was so blurry. He still wasn't sure if she was real.

"Daryl," she said, looking over her shoulder at the door. She walked away from him for a moment, then came back with a wet cloth, dabbing at his wound. "What matters is that I'm alive. What matters is that you're here now. I thought," she took a deep breath, tears threatening her eyes, "I thought, I'd lost you forever."

He moved to touch her - he wanted to feel her. She'd been so cold, so stiff, so _gone_ after Dawn had shot her. Was it possible that she was really alive now? Or was his mind playing tricks on him after all of these months?

The cloth left his skin, leaving him with goosebumps and cold flesh. She looked at him again, then let her face meet his, their noses touching, her lips, ever so softly brushing his. A kiss.

The softness of it wasn't unwelcome, but it was so unfamiliar Daryl didn't recognize it for what it was until after she'd brushed his face, until after she'd swiped her hands against the white uniform she wore, until after she'd left the room and the doctor had re-entered.

He was helped into new clothes, set back into a comfortable position to sleep and although the darkness and the pain and the guilt was eating at every inch of his skin, he couldn't help but see a glimmer of light - a glimmer of hope, before he fell back to sleep.

* * *

 ** _A/N PT II:_** _I may leave this as a one-shot, or I may continue (but not for too many chapters) as the season goes on, depending on what they do with Daryl. Thanks for reading and please review if you liked it. Or didn't!_

 ** _Song Inspiration:_** _"Human" - Rag'n'Bone Man._


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm Only Human**

 _ **A/N:** Oh my god, you guys. Thanks for such an overwhelmingly amazing response to my, what will now be, first chapter of this fic. I have literally no outline for this, so I'm not really sure where it's going to go (beyond a bunch of Bethyl feels), so I guess…hang on for the ride? Thanks to everyone who is reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, etc. Reviews always make me feel really warm and gooey inside so please leave them!_

 _Hope you all enjoy. :)_

* * *

He woke, covered in sweat, his body trembling from fever. At some point while he'd been sleeping, someone had stuck a needle in his arm, through which, by the looks of the bag on the IV pole, he was being fed saline and god knew what else. Daryl was disoriented for a minute, bringing himself to full consciousness, before he remembered all that had happened.

It was like a weight fell on his chest, crushing him, making him feel guilty and devastated and angry all at once. Losing Abraham was a crushing blow. The resolute man had been the strength of their group and watching and _hearing_ him die the way he did was just…sickening. Daryl's stomach clenched uncomfortably.

He'd just been so angry, so _done_ with all this Negan bullshit, there was nothing else to lose - might as well go out swinging, or whatever. Once again, his anger had gotten the best of him and though the few jabs he'd gotten in on Negan felt great, what happened next was unfathomable. It had been his fault Glenn had died. Negan had pretty much said that straight out. And now, he would probably dangle it in Daryl's face for however long he was here. Or however long he decided to keep him alive.

Daryl felt lost. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way. Like a big, clumsy, lost puppy, unsure of what his next move should be, uncomfortable with the idea of new people. Surely, he'd be used for bait. And he knew, although he hated the idea of it with every ounce of his being, that at some point, Rick and the others would come for him.

He wished they wouldn't. He wasn't worth the trouble.

His mind replayed the last few moments of foggy memory he had, where, under his severe fever, he was certain he'd seen, and felt, and been kissed by Beth Greene. Which was, of course, impossible, because Beth Greene was dead.

As if on cue, the doctor fumbled at Daryl's closed door, which was made from silver metal with a long glass window just above the door knob. He stuck his head inside. "Daryl, okay if I come in?" he asked kindly.

Daryl grunted his permission.

He nodded, coming towards Daryl with his hands in his lab coat pockets. "How are you feeling?" he asked casually, as if he really gave a shit and Daryl hadn't just been kidnapped only hours earlier by a maniacal overlord that stormed around with a barbed wire bat which Daryl was pretty sure he thought of as an actual _person_.

Daryl shrugged.

The doctor pulled a thermometer out from his pocket, which he promptly shoved into Daryl's mouth. Daryl glared at him, until the device beeped and the doctor ripped it out, studying it with squinted eyes.

"Those antibiotics are doin' you good," he commented, "Fever's breakin'."

"Great," Daryl managed to mumble.

"You hungry?" the doctor asked, stepping back from the bed. "Reckon you must be."

Hating himself, Daryl nodded.

"Good," the doctor said. "Beth'll bring you somethin' by in a little while…" Whatever the doctor had said next, floated in one ear and directly out the other, because Daryl clung to the last thing he'd said.

 _Beth_?

"I'll be back to check on you in a few hours," the doctor finished, exiting through the door and pulling it closed behind him. Daryl heard a distinct _click_ and his heart skipped a beat when he realized the doctor was locking him inside. He was pretty immobile, there was no way in hell he could make it out of here without someone noticing, but it was clear Negan's people were taking every precaution to keep Daryl right where he was. If one thing was for sure, it would be _extremely_ difficult to escape.

Nevertheless, Daryl was wide awake now, sitting straight up in the bed, staring at the door, his heart racing a mile a minute. Nervously waiting. Rationally, he knew this was crazy. Beth had died. He was waiting for a ghost. But it was like a small spark had ignited inside his belly and it took him a minute or two before he realized what that feeling was.

Hope.

* * *

He'd closed his eyes again, for just a moment. God knows, his body needed it, but the _click_ of the door made his eyelids snap open again, his vision tunneling as the knob turned.

She entered, wearing a ratty pair of hospital scrubs, carrying a tray in both hands. Her hair was no longer pulled back, it lay, stringy, down the sides of her face. She looked up at him, their eyes _really_ meeting this time, and instantly, he knew he hadn't been dreaming the night before. It was her. It was Beth.

Beth turned towards him, her arms hanging with the weight of the tray and the food on top, stopped in her tracks and biting her lip like she was trying to hold back a sob. The sight of her made his heart go wild, and he found himself trying to find the right thing to say. Instead, he sucked in a breath, the sharpness of it stinging his throat, emotions flying at him from every direction, which he had no idea what to do with.

Daryl always thought Beth was beautiful, not just how she looked, but the presence she brought with her. As he took her in, in the few seconds she'd been in the room with him already, he saw that brightness she'd carried with her all the way from the farm, through the prison, to the country club, through the moonshine cabin, past the funeral home all the way to Grady, was gone. Something had happened to her.

Beth came towards his bed swiftly, dumping the tray at the end of his bed, then coming to meet him by his shoulder. She was studying him, searching his face for answers. He felt her small hands on his arms, fingernails on his skin - touching him, just to be sure it was Daryl.

"I can't believe you're here," she whispered.

She moved to brush her hair away from her face and Daryl unintentionally gasped as she did so. The bullet from Grady hadn't left her unscathed. She was missing an ear on the left side, where she'd been shot. The skin there had been crudely sewn together, leaving a massive scar from where her ear should have been, all the way up into her hairline.

Worse yet, she was freshly bruised up, green, yellow and purple scattered from her brow bone all the way down to her chin. He felt his anger flare again, catching fire in his ribs.

"Beth," he said, his eyes widening, reaching up to touch her face.

"Don't," she said sternly, pulling away from him, her eyes wide and fearful. They darted from Daryl, to her shoes, to the door behind them, then back to Daryl.

He pulled his hand back towards himself. Something had her spooked. "Beth," he said her name again, softer this time, so she would at least keep her eyes on him for Christ's sake. She'd seemingly risen from the dead. He just wanted a few minutes with her.

"Daryl, they can't know we know each other," she whispered. Beth glanced towards the door again, nervously. " _He_ can't know."

"Who?" Daryl asked, nearly knocking his tray of food over with his feet from the excitement of new information. "Negan?"

She nodded, looking back at her feet.

"Did he do that to you?" Daryl asked, motioning to her face.

"Doesn't matter," Beth said quietly. "It's not important. We don't have time," she stressed. "Just listen…"

"It _does_ matter," Daryl interrupted. "Please, Beth. I need to know. Are you safe?"

Her doe eyes bore through him as she studied him, chewing her lip, searching for the right words. "I'm fine," she said quietly. "Doctor says you'll be here for at least another day, and then they'll move you to a cell. Just stay on Negan's good side. From what I heard, he has a special interest in you." She leaned into him then, her breath on his ear, sending shivers down his arms, "You may be our ticket out of here."

He wanted to ask her what she meant by a cell, what she meant by their ticket out - if she even knew a way out and what she meant by staying on Negan's "good side," but she'd retreated from his bedside and was out the door in an instant, locking the door behind her.

* * *

Beth had been right, Daryl got another night with the doctor before anything exciting happened. He'd hoped he would get another glimpse at her, and by mid-afternoon of the next day, feared the worst. Maybe someone had somehow figured out that Beth knew Daryl, but the doctor had stormed in before he could worry all that much.

"Time to go," the doctor said, closing the door behind him. In his arms he carried a pile of new clothes, which he laid at the end of the bed. Turning towards Daryl, he pulled the IV out from his arm and began to bandage up his stitches that Beth had placed.

"Time to go where?" Daryl asked quietly, looking at the doctor, hoping his face would reveal something. But his mouth was a straight line, his eyes focused on his task at hand.

"My job is to heal," he said simply. "All I know is that they're taking you away from here."

Daryl thought for a moment of asking him about Beth, but decided against it. The worst move now would be to get her in trouble, to get her hurt. They clearly had no qualms about hitting women which made Daryl furious. He needed to figure out a way to talk to her again.

The doctor helped Daryl pull on a new t-shirt before he tentatively climbed out of bed. He'd only gotten up to take a quick piss a few times over the last few days, so he knew his legs worked, but he didn't know how long they'd cooperate. Regardless, he was able to shove himself into a new pair of pants, pulling on new socks, and then, his old pair of boots.

"Word to the wise," the doctor said in a whisper as he guided Daryl towards the door. "Don't put up a struggle."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daryl asked, but at that moment, the door was opened and Dwight was on Daryl immediately, pulling his arms behind his back and clasping cool metal handcuffs around his wrists.

Once he seemed satisfied with the tightness of them, he grasped Daryl's forearm and pulled him along with him. "Let's go," he grumbled.

"Where we goin'?" Daryl managed to ask.

"Negan wants to see you."

Well, Daryl had been expecting that of course, but not this soon. He had no idea what the fuck Negan wanted with him anyway. The man was off his rocker. Maybe he wanted to torture him? Ask him more about Rick and Alexandria? Maybe he just wanted to fuck with him, tearing him apart limb by limb. Who knew. He just wished he'd gotten more time with Beth the other day.

Dwight led Daryl down through a long hallway that led to an open ledge. Beyond the ledge was a large open area about three stories down. The place looked like an abandoned mill or factory that they must have moved the equipment out of, putting a variety of tables and chairs into the center space to create a communal gathering place.

There were a good amount of people out there, sitting and eating, and Daryl was surprised to see a wide variety of men, women and children. But something else caught his eye immediately. _Her_. Beth sat at one of the tables with another woman, giving small smiles as her table-mate spoke to her. But Daryl could tell, just from the moments of watching her, that they were fake. He had seen Beth smile. Really smile - grins that spread across her face, showing her teeth, that warmed you from the inside.

She was gone from his line of vision in an instant as Dwight pushed his head forward and down, guiding him along the raised railed pathway, then down another side hallway, up a few flights of stairs.

They were facing a door now, made from a solid sheet of steel. Dwight knocked three times, and then they waited.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the door, and then finally, it swung open, revealing the man who had kidnapped him.

Negan.

* * *

"Daryl!" Negan exclaimed, snaking his arm around his neck to pull him through the doorway. "How the fuck are you?" he asked, like they'd been friends for years and he hadn't killed two people that Daryl considered family.

Daryl grunted, trying to maintain his balance as Negan let his neck go.

Negan closed the door behind them, leaving Dwight on the outside, and Daryl took in their surroundings. The room was large, smelling of sweat and sex. It was furnished luxuriously - all sorts of fancy couches and oriental rugs, one of those stand-alone gas fireplaces, a grandfather clock, and multiple vanities. There were various women laid about, like props - some of them sleeping, reading, or primping themselves.

He tried not to look at them, but couldn't help but notice they were all dressed in skimpy lingerie, tits perky, pushed up to their chins, asses handing out of too-small underwear. Negan was watching him, he could feel his eyes on him, and when he looked back at his captor, Negan let out a low laugh.

"There are my wives," Negan explained. Daryl met his eyes. "Do take a look," he urged him. "I'm sure it's been a long ass time since you've had any pussy. I know it's the fucking apocalypse man, but you should really think about cutting your hair and taking a shower once in a while."

Daryl continued to glare.

"Step into my office," Negan motioned, towards another door at the far end of the room. He opened it, pushing the double doors open, into what was unmistakably, an office. A handsome wooden desk sat in the middle, the walls covered top to bottom with bookshelves. To the right was another set of doors, Daryl imagined probably led into a bedroom of sorts.

Negan stepped behind Daryl, and he felt his hands on his cuffs, but no release. "Sorry about these," he said casually, not sounding sorry at all. "But, you understand, right?"

He came around the front of Daryl, then hoisted himself up onto the desk. He sat, eye level with Daryl and looked over his face, his shoulders, the rest of his body. Daryl shifted uncomfortably.

"Tell me, Daryl," Negan spoke slowly, "Why the fuck weren't you leading that merry band of misfits we left behind in the woods? Why the fuck did you have Rick in charge, hm? Guy's got no balls. None. At. All." He studied Daryl again. "You seem to be the only one in that group with any sort of ballsack. 'Cept maybe Big Red," he chuckled. "But he's not much of a problem anymore."

These were rhetorical questions, Daryl knew, so he stayed still on the spot, glaring at Negan, hating him from the depths of his soul.

"I bet, now that I have their ballsiest guy, and Rick is spending all his precious time and energy scraping up that _shit_ we left all over the ground there, all of ya'll in - Alexandria? Is that what you call it?"

Daryl nodded.

"All of those people back in Alexandria, won't know what the fuck hit them." He laughed then, a big hearty laugh, like someone had just told a really funny joke. Except none of this was funny. It was all, fucking, sick.

Negan's eyebrows furrowed as he took Daryl in again. "You get it though, don't you? That you work for me now? You're _my_ worker bee, and you do as I say." He grinned at him. Daryl wished he could punch every single tooth of his out of his mouth. "We're going to warm you up by bringing you down to the cells for a few days - teach you a fucking lesson. Make sure you're not as dumb as I think you _could_ be. And then you'll try your hand at something fucking useful around here. Got it?"

It went against everything Daryl believed in, but Beth's words kept echoing through Daryl's head. _Stay on Negan's good side. You may be our ticket out of here._ So he nodded. And Negan seemed satisfied with that.

* * *

The cell was larger than Daryl expected, though it was completely dark which fucked with his senses quite a bit. However, Dwight had taken off his handcuffs before he pushed him in there, and there was an old mattress on the floor, which Daryl felt content to curl up on for a bit and have a go at some sleep.

He fell into a dream, almost immediately, sleep capturing his tired body. In his dream, Beth had been up in that room, with all of Negan's wives, dressed in nothing but a pink robe, her body bare underneath, and she winked at Daryl before revealing that she too, was one of Negan's wives.

"He just _loves_ what I've done with my hair," she said with a smile, then turned, her blonde hair turning crimson as blood left that hole in her head, pouring through the tendrils of her hair, down her face, her ear, gone, and she crumbled to the floor, and he found himself crying out for her, in the emptiness of his cell.

After that, he stopped welcoming sleep, though he knew he probably needed it.

Then finally, there was a crack in the door, a sliver of white light shining in, and he saw a face. An eye. Blue, big and round. It was her. It _had_ to be her.

"Beth?" he called out in a whisper.

"I'm here," she whispered back. The door came back even further, revealing her in the light.

He let his lips curl into a smile at the sight of her - although she looked tired and still bruised up, she was still Beth. And he cared very deeply about her.

That's why, when Dwight stepped into the light behind her, Daryl let out a low growl and got to his feet to attack.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** More to come. Just a small disclaimer that I'm about to jump into NaNoWriMo, so there will probably not be super frequent updates on this story. HOWEVER, if S7 continues to destroy me and put Daryl in shitty situations then I'll probably continue to update just to cope._

 _Thanks for reading! Please review. :)_

 _ **ETA:** So sorry, I read through this and noticed about a million typos. They should all be fixed now, but totally call me out if you see any more. _


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

Adrenaline soared through him, his anger bursting at the seams. Abraham, Glenn - now they were taunting him with Beth? No way. No fucking way.

Not her.

But as he got to his feet and came towards them angrily, a low growl leaving his lips, Beth's eyes widened and she put a hand out that stopped him in his tracks.

"No," she hissed.

"No?" Daryl questioned, confused. "But this asshole…"

"Dwight's on our side," Beth said.

"He ain't," Daryl argued.

"He _is_ ," she stressed, looking back at Dwight.

The man locked eyes with Daryl, nodding slowly. "I know what you must think…"

"Yeah, that you're a fuckin' psycho," Daryl interrupted, "Just like Negan. You're a fuckin' liar. We can't trust him, Beth," Daryl exclaimed, looking back at Beth, trying to make her understand. "Man's been out to kill me since we met."

Beth's eyes flicked over to Dwight, who spoke again. "Daryl, listen…Negan…he's always been a little off, but lately he's just been out of his fucking mind. What happened with your group. It's…unforgivable," he sucked in a breath, shook his head, then started talking again, "The things he's done…things like that…it's just not worth staying here. That's why Sherry, Tina and I tried to run off. Back when we ran into you." He paused again. "When me and Sherry got back, he took her." He looked down at his feet. "She's up there. In that _room_ ," he said with a visible shudder.

"I don't buy it," Daryl grumbled angrily. "You took my bike. Left me in the woods to die. You tried to kill me. You killed Denise. You fuckin' shot me!" he all but yelled.

"I'm sorry," Dwight said. "Truly. I am. But since we tried to run off, Negan's had his eyes all over me. I can't slip up. I have to obey him. I have to or," he hesitated, looking at Beth, then back at Daryl, "he'll kill Sherry. You should know…I ain't proud of the things I've done."

"He's telling the truth Daryl," Beth said sternly. "And whether or not you believe him right now, ain't the problem. You need to listen. We got a plan figured out on how we can get outta here. But I need you."

Daryl scoffed, still trying to wrap his head around Dwight. "Well. Can't do much from inside this cell."

"No," Beth agreed. "But you can convince Negan that you've learned your lesson and you're not a threat. Persuade him to let you live among the community," she said. "Otherwise he'll keep you as a prisoner."

"Negan said he'd put me to work," Daryl said slowly.

"Yeah, he'll put you to work alright. Never said he'd stop makin' you a prisoner," Dwight said. "You gotta convince him. I can't sneak you out of this prison. It's too difficult. At least if you're one of us Negan won't have his eyes all over you." Daryl and Dwight met eyes again. "We'll try to help you, as best we can."

"You'll be fine, Daryl," Beth said softly. "And once you're free, Dwight's agreed to help us sneak into the back of one of the trucks they take out for runs."

Daryl thought for a moment. "And whatta want in return for that?" he asked Dwight.

"He wants us to convince Rick to fight Negan," Beth answered for him

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. "Won't need much convincin'," Daryl mumbled.

"Once we get far enough away from the Sanctuary," Beth continued. We'll make our way to Alexandria on foot. Dwight'll tell Negan that you ran off."

"Won't he fuck you up for that?" Daryl questioned, raising an eyebrow at Dwight.

"Probably. But after what I've put you through, don't you think…I sort of deserve it?"

Daryl chewed his lip in thought and gave a small shrug. "Okay," he said slowly, "but I don't want any more blood on my hands."

"He won't kill me," Dwight said to Daryl. "And…Daryl…it wasn't your fault that kid died neither."

It was a gut punch for Daryl, Dwight bringing up Glenn, especially in front of Beth. He hadn't thought yet about Beth finding out, but suddenly it was out in the open, here, in this cold, musty cell with Beth's eyes on him, Dwight's eyes on him and Daryl looked down at his shoes.

"Beth, I…" Daryl said, shaking his head, trying to search for the words to even begin to try and explain what had happened out there in the forest. He wasn't sure he'd fully come to terms with it himself. And what would Beth think? Would she hate him for his outburst? Would she ever be able to forgive him? And not just for Glenn, but for leaving her behind when she needed him the most? How could she ever forgive him for that?

But her arms were around him before he could say or _think_ anything else, her little head warm against his chest and she was squeezing him, her fingers rubbing at his back. "I know," she whispered up to him, and just like that, he allowed himself to let go.

Daryl crumbled. his shoulders feeling heavy and burdensome, the emotion and the excruciating pain that he'd been pushing away and ignoring for so long, slipped out of him. He let Beth hold him as he sank to the floor, his kneecaps colliding with the solid ground harshly and warm tears came, spilling down his cheeks

Breath came in sharp heaves as he tried to make sense of this all, what his life was now, how fucked up everything had become in the past few days, accepting the fact that Denise, Abraham and Glenn were dead and Beth was still alive, no thanks to him. He sobbed, unable to help himself. Messy and wet and horrible and without realizing he'd done so, he'd brought his hands up to grasp Beth back, arms tight around her, holding on for dear life.

They stayed like that for a moment, both kneeling on the floor, holding each other, and it was then that Daryl realized how much he'd needed Beth and what he'd lost when she'd been taken away from him. She was one of the only people who had really taken the time to understand him, damages and all, and made it okay - _really_ okay, for him to be himself. She wasn't afraid of him. She didn't blame him for anything. She wanted him to keep going. To _have a little faith._ Nobody, had ever made him feel that way before.

"Beth," Dwight's voice rippled through the air. "We need to go."

He felt her nod in his arms, and after one last squeeze of her arms, she pulled away from him and stood, leaving him kneeling on the floor before her. She brought her fingers up to touch his face, and gave him a small smile, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. "We're going to be okay," she said softly. "None of this is on you."

Daryl wanted to nuzzle into her hand; she was so _warm_. Comforting. But she left his skin too quickly and he watched her go, longingly. Hoping that there was another day - many more days, in fact, to be with her. "Stay safe," she said as she moved to close the door behind her. "I'll see you soon."

With a click, it was dark again. Daryl managed to climb back to the shitty mattress, curl up into a ball, and let sleep overtake him.

* * *

A day or two passed. Or at least that's what Daryl assumed - it was hard to tell, being consumed in darkness the entire time. Once in a while, someone threw in a few pieces of bread and a bottle of water in at him. Until finally, an armed guard came to his door.

"Geddup," he said, pounding on the metal enclosure, the knock echoing through the cell.

Daryl stirred, getting to his feet and moving towards the door. "You lettin' me out?"

"I ain't doin' shit. Negan wants you." The guard pulled the door ajar, and grabbed Daryl by the arms, pulling both behind his back and cuffing him, before he began to drag him along.

Daryl was glad to see the sunlight shining through the windows, despite the stinging in his eyes. He wondered who else Negan had stuffed inside those cells down there. He hadn't heard anyone else, but he hadn't exactly been listening either. He decided not to worry about it. He needed to focus on the next task at hand.

Once they reached their destination, the guard gave Negan's door three knocks, same as Dwight had done the other day, and they waited.

Negan came to the door and Daryl was surprised to see Dwight inside, beside him. He looked Daryl up and down and then smiled. "Daryl!" he exclaimed. "You look like shit!" He turned away from the door then, and called over his shoulder, "Come on in."

He obeyed, entering the room, leaving the armed guard outside and looked around at his surroundings. They hadn't changed much since he'd been there last - women lounged around, totally unfazed that a new person had entered the room. Dwight glanced to the right, his eyes lingering on a woman - her face familiar to Daryl. Must be his wife. Or now, his ex-wife? Whatever the case, it was fucked up beyond belief.

Pushing it from his mind, Daryl followed Dwight and Negan into the office. He had the sudden thought of rushing Negan, pushing his ass over the heavy wooden desk and bashing it in with his foot. If Dwight unlocked him from these cuffs, maybe one of the books, or one of the pens. The ways to kill him had only multiplied in his mind.

"Daryl," Negan spoke, pacing the room behind the desk. "You need to follow Dwight out to the yard. We don't want a leak." He chuckled.

Daryl raised his eyebrow. "A leak," he repeated.

"That's right." Negan flashed him a sinister smile. "Your job, as my newest _addition_ , is to reinforce the barrier around this place." He turned towards Dwight then and gave him a nod, then went towards the pair of double doors leaving Dwight and Daryl alone.

"C'mon," Dwight said, grabbing Daryl's arm. "He'll be watching," he whispered.

 _What_ Negan ended up watching became abundantly clear in the next few minutes.

The air was cool, sun setting in the distance, but Daryl wasn't focused on that. Dwight had grabbed him by the neck and pressed him up against a wire fence to view a strange sight.

Scattered about were a variety of walkers, some pierced through with stakes, some attached by chains to concrete road blocks, all growling hungrily at each other, gnashing what was left of their teeth. Daryl was no stranger to walkers, but the sight was still unsettling.

"Walkers," Daryl observed. "Walkers protect your walls?"

"That's right," Dwight said. "And you're gonna help build the protection up."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Daryl hissed.

Instead of answering him, Dwight elbowed Daryl in the ribs, so hard that he was forced to double over, coughing from the pain.

"Shut the fuck up," Dwight yelled.

He disappeared behind Daryl, and he felt a loosing on his wrists. Dwight had removed the handcuffs and with his hand, wrapped it around Daryl's forearm to drag him towards an opening in the gate. Through it, Daryl saw another man, who could only be another prisoner and Dwight pushed him through towards him, closing the gate behind him.

"Good luck," he grumbled.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm making some of this up based on next week's trailer. Ideally, would have liked to wait until the new episode aired to see what they do with Daryl's story, but then I'll never get anywhere. So, we'll roll with it for now.

Before anyone asks, I want to say that I know there's a lot of backstory that hasn't been resolved yet. (How did Beth get here, how did she survive, why hasn't she tried to escape before, what happened to her at the Sanctuary, etc.) This will all be resolved in upcoming chapters. Promise!

Just want to say, thank you guys so much for the support on this story. And I'll please ask you to be patient with me during this upcoming month! I'm going to try and give a few updates, but I don't want to promise anything. NaNoWriMo is a pretty tough challenge! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and continue to enjoy this story. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm Only Human**

 _ **A/N:** Episode 3 was rough. Continuing down the road of total denial - hope you all enjoy this alternate version of this incredibly heart-breaking season. This will feature a little bit of Daryl and Beth's lives at the Sanctuary but none of this torture nonsense because we already had plenty of that thank you very much._

 _Also, I pretty much have the entire next chapter written, so I'll post that in the next day or so too. Thanks for reading guys._

* * *

"The fuck, man?" Daryl asked the prisoner who stood in front of him. He wore a simple long-sleeved t-shirt and black pants, similar to the clothing they'd given Daryl when he left the medic.

The man observed Daryl, then motioned towards a structure made from similar wire material as the fence he'd just been pushed out of. "New walkers. Gotta get 'em tied up to the walls. You up for it?"

Daryl grunted in response as the man went up to pull the structure open, releasing a single walker before he closed it again. The corpse stumbled out, decrepit and disgusting, stinking of rotting flesh, and the man grabbed it by the neck, guiding it ahead of him. The walker chomped at him, trying like hell to strain its neck backwards to get a taste of his wrist.

"Get the chain!" the man yelled, pointing in the distance. An empty cement road block lay nearby with a few chains attached to it and Daryl obeyed the command, running towards it, pulling it into his hands. The man brought the walker over, and together they captured the monster around the neck and chest with the long chain, locking it in place with a spring hook that was attached to the end.

They stepped away from the thing that now had free roam in the land around them, going back towards the wire-fence structure. Giving himself a minute to catch his breath, Daryl caught sight of Dwight, who was still on the other side of the fence, fingers gripped between the links, watching them.

The man and Daryl finished their sadistic art project of chaining walkers up to the cement road block - seven to be exact, before they went to wait at the fence. Another man appeared next to Dwight to take and handcuff his companion, and Dwight pulled Daryl in next, handcuffing his hands behind him before guiding him back into the cold building, pulling him down the hallway where his cell was.

It was even darker and colder than Daryl remembered, so when Dwight threw him back in his cell and he curled up on the mattress he'd been sleeping on, shivering, sure he wouldn't be able to sleep. But resilience is an incredible thing. There was something still left to fight for, he knew. This wasn't the end for him. His body temperature evened out eventually, and he finally, after what felt like hours, fell asleep.

Dwight brought him out to the walls every day for a week after that. The week was lonely and exhausting and Daryl had no sight and heard no mention of Beth. He hoped maybe Dwight would bring her up, but he never did. He just kept on acting like a complete _dickbrain,_ succumbing to Negan's every demand and treating Daryl like shit. When the two were alone, sometimes, he'd slip him something extra to eat or give him a small smile, just enough to keep Daryl's small hope alive.

And Daryl kept focused on that tiny bit of hope. He clung to what Beth had said days prior - that he was their ticket out of here. That things would one day, in the near future, somehow, be okay.

* * *

"Daryl?"

Her voice broke through his dream, shining brightly in the darkness of his cell. Even through his sleepy stupor, he knew it was her. He always knew it was her. He'd heard her in his dreams so many times.

"Beth?" he asked, scrambling to the door of his cell.

"Today's the day," she whispered through the metal. "Go with Negan. Do what he asks." He heard her place the weight of her body against the door. "I'll see you on the other side," she said. And then, she was gone.

Moments passed - maybe minutes, maybe hours, until finally, two feet appeared outside of his cell, the shadow coming underneath the crack in the door, and it opened, revealing Dwight, who glared down at him angrily and motioned for him to get to his feet.

Daryl obeyed, Beth's voice still ringing in his ears as Dwight dragged him out of the cell. Noticeably, Dwight declined to handcuff Daryl, but still kept a tight grip on his arm as he dragged him out and up to Negan's room.

He knocked three times, again, at Negan's door. The man answered with a smile, something that should have been pleasant, but instead looked psychotic. He ushered them in quickly, past his wives, straight into the office, so quickly neither Dwight nor Daryl were able to get a look around. And that was okay. The room full of women always made Daryl feel extremely uncomfortable.

The office was warm and the two men stood, watching, as Negan paced the floor behind his desk.

"How'd he do?" Negan asked Dwight, though Daryl had a feeling that Negan had been watching Daryl's every move for the past week.

"Good sir," Dwight responded.

"Don't _sir_ me, you stupid bitch," Negan answered, slamming his hands down on his desk. "We're friends, aren't we Dwight?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You can talk to me like a fucking human being!"

"I'm sorry," Dwight said quietly, looking at the floor. "Daryl did well out in the field. We have a total of forty new walkers at the wall."

"Oh yes! I knew he would do well," Negan said slowly, looking up at Daryl with a sinister smile on his face. "I just _knew_ it!" He gave him a look like he was a proud father looking at their child who'd just come home with an excellent report card. It was eerie. Daryl felt uneasy.

"Dwight!" Negan shouted suddenly. Beside him, Dwight stiffened, looking at Negan with his hands at his sides.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Go the fuck away," Negan said. "I need to speak with Daryl."

Dwight nodded and immediately, left the room, leaving Daryl and Negan alone.

"Daryl, Daryl, Daryl," Negan said, coming around the front of the desk so that he could get closer to him. "So pleased you could be here with me," he commented, as if he had a choice. Daryl met his eyes as Negan smiled at him again. "Now let me ask you," the man said slowly. "Are you ready to work _for me_? Are you ready to be a part of this community?" he asked.

Daryl stared at him for a moment, not making a move. Beth's words rang in his ears. _Go with Negan. Do what he asks_. He closed his eyes, trying to let his unsurmountable anger for this man dissipate.

"Yes," Daryl mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear what you said - I asked you a question and you best the fuck speak up when you answer me!" Negan exclaimed. "Are you _ready_ to work for _me_ and be a member of this community?" Negan asked again.

Daryl let out a loud sigh, nodded and then very audibly said, "Yes."

And that was enough for Negan who smiled and clapped Daryl on the back like they were college fraternity brothers, nodding as he did so, with satisfaction.

"Dwight!" he yelled loudly, and the man appeared through the doors of Negan's office again, ready to serve at a moments notice. "Our friend Daryl here has decided to join our ranks. I expect you to show him the ropes. Give him a new room. Some new clothes." Negan turned his nose up at Daryl then, and turned back to Dwight. "Tell this motherfucker where the showers are."

Dwight nodded, then motioned for Daryl to follow him. And follow him, he did.

* * *

The room Dwight lead Daryl to was clean and spacious - a small kitchen area, comfortable bed and plenty of new clothes. While the new clothes and even a short shower did him well, it wasn't anything that Daryl cared about at the moment. Where he really wanted to get to, was wherever Beth was.

And so, after exploring for a few moments, he wandered out of his room and towards the common area he'd seen when he was first brought into the Sanctuary.

The place was packed, with many people doing many different things - some were making food, some were eating, some were playing games, some were even painting, but when he heard the piano echo through the air, he knew, immediately, who was playing it.

He turned to follow the sound. Beth's blonde hair came into view and her voice broke through the stale noise and chatter that filled the room. She'd drawn a crowd and, well, it would have been difficult for her not to. Her voice was soft, sweet - velvety even, and Daryl wasn't sure there was anyone who wouldn't want to listen to her sing.

"This is the end. Hold your breath and count, to ten. Feel the earth move, and then…hear my heart burst again. For this is the end. I've drowned and dreamt this moment. So overdue, I owe them…"

He watched patiently, standing with the rest of the crowd, waiting for her to finish her song. It was beautiful and sad, and he was fascinated that her fingers still flew over the keys methodically, so normally. It was a piece of her - a piece of her old life, that she hadn't yet lost.

When the song ended, she looked around, like she had no idea anyone had been watching her. A few people gave soft claps of encouragement and Beth thanked them with a nod of her head, her eyes scanning the crowd, until they stopped on Daryl.

She gave him the slightest smile, then stood up from her bench, all while keeping her eyes on him, and walked towards a door on the far side of the room. And so, Daryl followed her.

It was a stairwell that was just as dark and cold as the cell he'd been in. She faced him, shifting her weight between her feet, like she wanted to move or do something, and before he could say anything, she was hugging him, squeezing him, like she wanted to get all the air out of him and he gave a little _oof_ sound, before she released him, looking sheepishly towards the ground.

"I'm so proud of you Daryl. Thank you," she said. "We can do this tonight. Dwight scheduled a run for first thing tomorrow morning. We can sneak into the truck, get beyond the gates, then make a run for it."

Daryl nodded, understanding.

"The quicker we get out of here, the better. Before Negan wises up." She ran her hand over her mouth, like she was trying to wipe her smile away. "We're gonna do this," she said, sounding happier than he'd heard since he'd seen her alive after Grady. "We're gonna get out."

* * *

Daryl had gone back to his room that Dwight had shown him, to wait, running his fingers over all of the _things_ he didn't need in the place, wondering how people - so many people here, were _okay_ with just giving in to Negan and his rule, and how Negan had survived by being such a pompous asshole for so long.

His mind was going in circles, thinking about all of the ways this plan could go _wrong_ , that he and Beth, after all of this time, could just end up dead. But the risk was worth it, and they would fight to get out of here. To get back to the others.

The idea of that in itself scared him. He wasn't sure what they thought of him anymore. Would they be angry with him? Blame him for Glenn's death? He sure as shit did. Negan did. And even though Beth didn't, maybe that wasn't the case for the others. Would they even _want_ him anymore? Maybe he still deserved to be in that cell. Maybe he didn't deserve to go home.

Doubt invaded his thoughts as darkness flooded through the single window the room held, signaling nightfall. He sat on the single bed that was situated in the corner of the room and waited until Dwight and Beth slipped through his doorway. Dwight was looking over his shoulder, then back at the two of them.

"Let's go. Stay as hidden as you can," he advised them.

Daryl followed the blonde man, with Beth behind him, realizing very suddenly that he was putting blind faith in a person who had tried to kill him multiple times. But he trusted Beth and so he followed him, down the hallway and up to a door that was made from thick metal with a window at the top to peer out of.

Dwight brought him up to it. "See that truck?" Daryl looked out the window to see a pickup truck sitting at the entrance of what looked like a gate. "Ya'll need to sneak into truck bed and under the tarp. There's a backpack under there with some supplies, but couldn't get to the weapons. I armed Beth with a gun earlier today. If you can swipe a knife from the truck, do it. Otherwise, tomorrow, when we stop to camp - you gotta run. Got it?"

Daryl nodded, and then turned towards Beth. There was fire behind her blue eyes - determination. This was it.

Dwight opened the door and headed out into the night, disappearing beyond the truck.

"You ready?" Daryl asked Beth, but she gave no reply as she darted out the door, Daryl quickly on her heels as they both jumped into the truck bed, covering themselves with the thick tarp that had been placed there carefully.

They both laid, side by side, stark still. Daryl was trying not to breathe. Trying not to think. Trying not to hope. He was trying not to think about what would happen if they were found.

He laid there, next to Beth, watching her. She'd closed her eyes, steadying her breathing underneath the tarp. He wanted to reassure her that everything was going to be fine, but he didn't dare speak. So he just watched, savoring the time with another piece of his family. There was no telling if they'd actually reach their destination.

Night passed, slowly. Without a concept of time, the minutes felt like hours. The sun came up slowly, light passing over the tarp, stirring him from his very light slumber he'd fallen into. He opened an eye to see Beth who was staring at him, and she gave him a terrified smile.

Daryl felt like he was dreaming. He'd seen her now over the course of a few days, but he still felt like he was dreaming every time he looked at her. He had just been _so sure_ she was dead.

And then, before he could dwell on the thought much more, the truck began to move. Freedom was on the horizon.

* * *

They must have covered at least fifty miles before the car stopped and Daryl was able to hear voices outside of the car. Dwight was talking to his companion about camping for the night.

As the car had been moving, he was able to get his bearings of the truck and swipe some sort of knife that he tucked under the waistband of his pants.

Beth nudged Daryl, a sign that it was time to pay attention and be ready to run.

Dwight was closest to them, grabbing things from the trunk, before his voice got farther away. It came back again, a few minutes later, whispering loudly, "Count to twenty, then hop off the right side of the truck and run."

He felt Beth's hand slide down his arm and grasp his, squeezing tightly as if to say _this is it._ And it was _it_. This was now or never. If they didn't get this right, neither of them would live to see another day.

And so, after counting to twenty as slowly as he could, Beth and he wiggled out of the tarp, hoisted themselves over the side of the truck, landing on the solid ground beside it, and took off, sprinting, as quickly as they could.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

Daryl felt like his lungs were going to burst, like the time they'd run from the prison, afraid they weren't going to survive, terrified they'd be shot from behind. This time though, the imminent threat looming behind them was greater and so much more terrifying and somehow, more real. But for now, they'd made it away, and that had to be good enough.

Beth was kneeling on the ground, her breath coming in heaves, sucking in air to try and fill her lungs and exhaling just as quickly. Daryl was against a tree, panting, his palm flat against the bark, face looking towards the ground.

They rested for a few moments, until their breathing became steady again. The knife Daryl had been able to swipe from the truck was cool against his belly, so he let his hand find it to bring it out and observe.

It had a clip point blade that was dulling at the edges. He frowned at it for a minute, then looked over it at Beth.

For a moment - just a moment, a spark shot through his body and he was transported back to his time with her, before he'd lost her, at the funeral home. Her singing. He smile. Their hope that they'd stumbled across, together. And then, there was darkness, and she was gone.

Until she wasn't. Until she was sitting here, alive. Fair skinned, blonde hair that had grabbed twigs and leaves as they'd run away from the truck. From their captors. She was dirty. Maybe the dirtiest he'd ever seen her, with dirt smeared and clothes torn, matted hair, her scar, red and angry looking, forehead and armpits sweaty, but fuck, she was _here_. And Daryl, who hadn't wanted much, or hoped for _anything_ in many, many months, just wanted more time with her.

She looked up, their eyes meeting, and she gave him a little smile, the corner of her lips turning upwards. She looked bewildered, like she wondered why he was looking at her like that. And Daryl couldn't figure out how it wasn't obvious.

"It'll be dark soon," she said quietly, finally breaking their silence. "We should look for a place to camp."

Daryl grunted in response, putting a hand out to Beth who was still kneeling, and she took it, her bone-thin fingers wrapping around his as he pulled her to stand.

Beth stayed beside him, within arms reach of him, which he was glad for, as they walked - slowly, but purposefully. He realized after quite some time, that they were walking at a slight incline that began to dramatically increase after about two miles, Daryl estimated. Neither of them spoke about it though, just kept going. Daryl thought maybe the height would do them some good. If they reached the top of a hill, maybe they'd be able to get their bearings.

After what seemed like hours, the hill leveled out and the trees that had shielded them for the majority of their trip, began to thin. They stopped for a moment, Daryl mainly just to get his surroundings straight. He thought about marking a tree, but then thought against it, in case Negan had the wise idea of trying to follow them. Daryl didn't know what kind of tracker the man was, but he assumed there were certainly plenty of people in the camp who could do it for him.

"There," Beth said softly, her hand outstretched ahead of her.

Daryl squinted into the distance, following the direction of her finger. He could barely see it, but sure enough, there was some sort of chimney extending through the trees. He looked over his shoulder at her, staring into the distance, her face, satisfied and maybe even a little smug and something, somewhere tugged at his heart to feel something again, but he pushed it away. He'd been numb for so long, the thought of _feeling_ wasn't something he could handle right now.

Right now, all he wanted to do was make sure they were safe.

* * *

They came down the hill quickly, their steps in sync, finally coming to flat land at the bottom. They both moved in the general direction of the chimney they'd seen in the distance, moving with true direction now, knowing that there was a possibility of a roof, and maybe even more, in their immediate future.

It was thrilling. There was still that incredible fear of the unknown, but the possibility of _what if this is something good_ , still hung.

Finally, it was in the distance.

Daryl observed the structure - it was a cabin of sorts, with a weak, low, wooden fence surrounding the property that must have been compromised fairly early, with obvious breaks that he could see as they approached. The front door had been kicked in, a few of the windows shattered, but the roof had held and the chimney was promising.

Beth went first, hoisting herself over the fence and into what had once been a front yard. Daryl followed suit, the knife, firm in his hand as they both came up the sagging front porch and up to the bent door, side by side, both of them, very aware of the other, ready to fight.

"Stay behind me," Daryl instructed her, his voice raspy, "you see anything, you yell to me."

She nodded, determined, her hand on the gun in her pocket, just in case, and Daryl nudged in the front door with his right shoulder, coming over the threshold and through the doorway slowly.

It was darker than he expected, and a groan in the distance set his instincts on fire, as a walker stumbled through the shadows, straight towards the door. It had been a while since he'd killed a walker like this, but instinct took over and the knife sunk into the cranium causing the corpse to crumble to the ground at his feet.

He navigated around it, feeling Beth at his back, the knife still slick with blood in his hands. As they inched in, slowly, to the house, his eyes adjusted and he was able to see what they were walking into.

The place was spacious - more spacious then it looked from the outside at least, but it was clear the house had been looted. A fireplace was built at the far edge of the room, two lonely couches, a wide coffee table and a thick, dusty rug stood in the middle of the floor. Clutter was carelessly littered everywhere - papers, glass, dirt. Things someone had once loved, shattered across the wood.

Bookshelves were pushed up to the side walls and through a doorway to the left, he thought he could make out some semblance of a kitchen.

He looked up. The ceilings were high, and at one end, a railing indicated a second floor that was somewhere to be discovered. Cobwebs hung from corners, dust lay still on the floor, covering the corners of the each separate piece of junk that made up the strange mosaic they were looking at. Nobody had been here for quite some time. And with the noise they'd been making, Daryl knew, the one walker was probably the only one they'd find.

Regardless, they moved through the kitchen, finding only a few old kitchen rags, rusting appliances, cabinets filled with dishes and cookware, but nothing they could actually _use_. The upstairs also held nothing of substance - a bare bathroom, the closet filled with soaps and hand towels, and a bedroom with a stripped mattress, a bedside table, a lamp, and, ironically, a Bible someone had left behind.

The closets were bare. No medicine, medical supplies, food, flashlights, blankets or anything of relevance. The place had been raided long ago, and all that remained were useless trinkets Beth and Daryl had no purpose for.

Together, they ventured down the stairs. "Think we're clear," Daryl said softly, turning towards Beth, who had her chin to her shoulder, nodding at him.

She stood still, next to him at the bottom of the stairs. "We need to secure the door," she commented casually. "Find some firewood?" she suggested.

"Yeah," he agreed, lowering the knife he held in his hand.

It was an odd concept for Daryl. Finding things to help him survive again. Alexandria had calmed him. Negan had scared him. The Sanctuary had terrified, broken and fucked him up. And Beth and brought him back. Being here, now - it was almost like none of that had ever happened. Like they were still running from the prison. Like somehow it had all been a bad dream.

But that wasn't the case. Daryl knew that. So much had happened since then. And there would, eventually, come the time, where he'd have to deal with it.

The land surrounding the house was shielded by trees which was both good and bad. The cabin was an obvious place for Beth and Daryl to hole up if Negan came around looking at him, but if Daryl knew Negan, he wouldn't risk coming to look for them after dark. Still, he and Beth would have to move again in the morning.

In the distance, the sun was low, casting reds and purples and oranges against the sky. Beth and Daryl stayed nearby the cabin, collecting wood for the fireplace, finally returning as the sun began to take its final resting place beyond the trees.

With arms filled with wood, the two returned to dump their haul into the fireplace. From the backpack Dwight had packed for them, they had a few bottles of water, a set of matches, dried beans, oats and a few small cans of preserved fruit. Daryl grabbed the matches, to get the fire going.

The sun set quickly. Fall was in full swing now and the nights were getting longer and colder which meant the less time they were out on their own like this, the better. This house would have to do for now though, so as Daryl tended to the hearth, Beth pushed the coffee table against the broken door and re-arranged the couches closer towards the fireplace, so they'd have somewhere to sleep. They were old and saggy and smelling of mothballs, but they were better than nothing.

Finally, the fire was roaring, breathing in the air around them and warming them as much as it could, and they sat on their own individual couches, facing each other, eating canned peaches with their fingers.

The silence was okay. Daryl was used to the silence with everyone else. He'd found, after he'd lost Beth, that he didn't talk much anymore. But now that she was here, he felt the need for the time to be better than _okay_. He felt the need to break the silence.

"How are you feelin'?" he asked, in between bites.

Beth looked up at him, dropping a peach back into the jar she held between her legs. She didn't smile at him, but shrugged, looking down again. "Just glad we got away. Glad the plan worked." She smiled then, but not at him - it was a smile of disbelief. "Just hope it lasts, you know?" She shook her head ever so slightly. "Not sure I could go back there."

"Mhm," Daryl agreed, finishing off his jar. "We'll keep watch tonight. Don't reckon they'll come lookin' for us in the dark. We'll move again first thing tomorrow. Try to find a road. Figure out where the hell we are and where the hell we need to go."

Beth nodded.

The silence came back and Daryl watched Beth out of the corner of his eye as she finished off her own jar. She looked different now, as he really studied her. Stronger, somehow more hard. Life after Grady may not have been kind to her.

Everything felt quiet, and Daryl was aware of it now, aware of everything, aware that there was _time_ now with Beth. With himself. His instinct was to escape. Roll over and go to sleep and ignore it. But he couldn't. There was too much inside of him. And he needed to get it out. He hated himself for that.

"Beth," he said slowly, letting his eyes rest on her, "what… _happened_? At Grady?"

She screwed the lid back on her jar and placed it on the floor. After licking two of her fingers, she swiped them against her pant leg and looked at him steadily, meeting his eyes, giving him a look like she was asking him if he _really_ wanted to know.

"I woke up back in the hospital," she said, after a few moments. "I don't remember getting there. In fact, I don't remember the first few days of even being awake. I still have some trouble," she paused, pointing to the side of her head where she'd been shot, "with my memory. Forget things a lot easier. My memories are faded. I'll get confused from time to time."

She went quiet again, and Daryl felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Queasy and sad - the overwhelming sensation of guilt, sweeping over him for having left. For having not checked again. For _leaving_ her. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry we left you."

Beth gave him a small smile this time. "Oh Daryl, it wasn't your fault. Wasn't anyone's fault. I was as good as dead - that's what Edwards said. It was a miracle they even found me. It was inconceivable that they saved me." She shook her head at him, leaning forward over her knees to get just a bit closer to him. "You couldn't have known."

He heard her and wanted to believe her, but he couldn't. The guilt still sat, heavy on his belly, his chest, his shoulders - though he didn't know what it was for anymore. The guilt of losing Beth was suffocating, Denise had doubled that, but after Abraham and Glenn, the guilt might as well have knocked him dead.

"I should have made sure," he whispered, even though he was sure. He'd been so sure. Daryl sucked in a breath, wiping his hands down his face, like somehow it would erase the guilt for him somehow. It didn't.

"The recovery was long…pretty painful. I nearly lost vision in my eye. Needed to get used to only having one ear and damaged skin," she said. "But since Dawn was gone, the hospital _worked_. They saved me and helped me recover so I could live and still survive in this kind of world. I could have stayed," she said, looking off, past Daryl, into her faded memories, "but I wanted to find…" She sighed. "I wanted to try and find my family."

"We came up here. To Virginia. Noah, he told us you'd talked about going. Rick wanted to honor that, you know?" Daryl offered. "So we went."

"Noah?" Beth asked, her eyes widening slightly, "is he…?"

Daryl shook his head, looking back at the ground, feeling like his throat was about to close. "We lost him on a run. Glenn was pretty beat up about it."

 _Glenn_. He'd brought him up in past tense, unintentionally, but it caused the bad thoughts, the bad feelings to rear their ugly heads. They attacked him from all angles, as they had been every night since, and without thinking, he squeezed his fists into a ball and took a small, shuddering breath.

"Daryl," Beth's voice broke through, ringing in his ears, his name rolling off her tongue ever so delicately. "That wasn't your fault - Dwight told me—"

"No," Daryl growled, sounding angrier than he'd meant. "I can't." He shook his head, his throat feeling dry, an invisible ball forming there, causing him to choke before he spoke again. "I can't talk about it. Not yet."

She respected it, not pushing any further but letting the silence echo in the large room, the only sound behind them being the flames from the fire Daryl had so carefully built. The wood crackled and popped as the flames ate away at their wooden haul.

"I left Grady a few months ago," Beth continued, to Daryl's surprise. "There were two others with me. Took a car from the hospital, headed north. Figured I had a fifty-fifty shot of finding you all, right?" She took her hand and rubbed her arm nervously. "We lost Percy first. Bit on the neck our second night camping."

Beth looked up at him, and Daryl watched her, chewing on his thumbnail, but not responding.

"I was with another man. Franco. He was okay for about a day after that, but he'd barely been out of that hospital. He panicked. Worried we wouldn't have enough food to survive," she said, her voice raising slightly. "He tried to kill me. Almost did it too, had Negan not found me."

" _Negan_ found you?" Daryl grumbled, watching her.

"Yes." She leaned back on the couch now, letting another breath go. "He took me in. I was hungry, alone - no gas for the car, no water. At that point, I _needed_ him. I thought, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. And for a while, it wasn't."

She stopped, turning towards the door. Daryl recognized that she'd heard something, and got to his feet on instinct.

But when he looked back at her, she was smiling. He could _almost_ call it a grin. "You hear that?" she asked.

He strained his ears, and sure enough, the faint sound of drizzle was coming down on the roof. "It's rain," he said, the observation blatantly obvious.

Beth came to her feet too and went towards the bare kitchen. He heard her fiddling in the cabinets, metal scraping against metal, against wood, until she emerged, holding a variety of pots. "Well?" she asked him, "aren't you going to help?"

He watched her as she wandered across the room, pushing the coffee table away and out through the front door. Daryl followed her, unsure and uneasy, but when he came to the doorframe and saw her placing the pots out in the dirt to catch the rainwater, he let it fall away. He let himself enjoy watching her in that moment.

 _Beth_.

The skies opened up then, dumping sheets of rain down, the droplets landing in big _plops_ in the dirt, on the deck, the roof, the house, and to Beth's satisfaction, the pots too.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thank you for reading. I semi-abandoned my NaNoWriMo to focus on these last two chapters, so hopefully you all enjoy them. Please review! :)_


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

Daryl took first watch, though Beth refused to sleep. He sat near one of the windows, keeping his eye out for anything suspicious. The dark in the forest was their friend. With a cloudy sky, the moon was hidden from view. If anyone was coming for them, they'd be able to see a flashlight or a torch from miles away.

The rain had stopped now and littered across the front yard were the pots Beth and he had scattered about, brimming over with fresh rainwater.

"Rain's stopped," Beth commented from the couch, above the crackling of the fire, as if she could read his mind.

"Thought you were sleepin'," Daryl said, looking over his shoulder at her. She was curled up, knees to her chest, her arm twisted underneath her head so that it rested on her elbow. But her eyes, illuminated in the firelight, were open - bright orbs, staring through him.

"I can't," she said simply.

Inherently, Daryl knew why. It was why he'd offered to take first watch.

The fear was suffocating - the threat of Negan, of his Saviors, of the dead. But worse than that was the fear of his guilt. It was eating him alive, from the inside out, like a parasite working its way through his body tissue. The nightmares he knew would come once he closed his eyes, weren't something he was sure he could handle right now.

He couldn't sleep either.

"They ain't comin' after us tonight," Daryl said, very matter-of-factly, looking back at her gaze.

Beth looked unsure and worried, and had Daryl not been watching her so intently, he may have missed the sadness that washed over her face suddenly. Like she'd just remembered something awful.

It disappeared in an instant and slowly, she came to sitting position, pushing herself up to standing. She came towards him and he stiffened, instantly - though he wasn't sure why. Something about her made him nervous. He wasn't sure where that had come from - he sure didn't remember feeling that way about her before. But, he tried to remind himself, so many things had changed since then.

He half expected her to come over to him, maybe slide her hands across her back or something of the sort. He acknowledged the thought of wanting to be touched in that moment - needing some kind of connection, some semblance of comfort, and he was more surprised than he thought he'd be when, instead, she went towards the front door.

Without another word, she moved the coffee table out of the way and went straight out the doorway, her hand on the gun that still resided in her pocket.

He watched her for a moment, look across the yard, her eyes sweeping the perimeter of the property before she flew down the stairs, grasping the biggest pot in the field and lugging it back inside. He hopped to his feet to help her, and together they carried the pots back inside the house, placing them close to the fire.

Daryl pushed the coffee table back in front of the broken door, shivering slightly. The cold had settled and he longed to get closer to the fire.

Beth had beat him to it though, having found a smaller pot earlier with a long handle. She dipped it into one of the larger pots and held it over the fire to warm the water inside.

"I gotta get some of this dirt off me," Beth explained, pulling the pot back over to the floor after few moments. Her hand went to the couch, and he realized she had taken some of the hand towels with her from their bathroom exploration. She grabbed one from the top of the pile, dipped it carefully into the water, then ran it over her face, a happy smile relishing in the warmth and the cleanliness of it.

The cloth came away dark, covered in dirt, so she dipped it again, running it against her chin, then down her neck, underneath her shirt. Without any hesitation, she tugged the garment that covered her chest away, over her head, discarding it on the floor, revealing dirty arms, a frayed gray bra and her malnourished middle that Daryl winced at.

She rubbed herself clean, wiping the dirt away and Daryl, feeling slightly uncomfortable, went instead towards the window, settling himself into the crook of it, his eyes focused on the outside for any sign of movement.

He wouldn't dare look at her, but he listened to the sounds she made - each dip of the washcloth into the pot, gliding across her skin repeat over and over again, until it stopped. There was a shuffle of fabric - probably her shirt, and then footsteps behind him.

This time, she did touch his shoulder and when he turned he was surprised to find her, holding a fresh hand towel, dripping with water. She held it out to him and he took it from her, unsure, really what to do with it. He wiped his hands, awkwardly. When he took it away this time, it was black with grime.

She took it from him, then went back towards the fire and, instinctually, he followed her. He sat on the floor, instead of on the couch, close to where Beth was in front of the fire.

Beth took her time warming a new pot of water for him, and in the silence, Daryl felt a sudden sense of trust, a new found sense of confidence in the familiarity of being with Beth. The gesture had been simple, but important. Compassionate. For some reason, sitting here on the floor with her - he felt like he could _almost_ breathe again.

"Beth," he said very slowly, "I think I…I killed Glenn. I'm the reason he's dead." The words left his mouth before he could really even think about them, but as they slipped out, he realized, they'd been sitting on his tongue for _days_. Since the moment it happened. They'd formed as he watched Maggie and the pain and terror and disgust and overwhelming _agony_ in her expression.

They'd sat there in his mouth as he watched Negan crush Glenn's skull, beating his cranium, the bone and brain that once was, to a bloody pulp. It became clear, the instant Negan shot him a look - that _look_ that said, _you did this. You're to blame. You're the reason he's dead_.

Saying them aloud - it was a release unlike any other.

In front of him, Beth delicately dipped the washcloth back into a fresh pot of water, then, on her knees, scooted over on the floor in front of him.

She was close enough to touch now, the fire behind her illuminating her blonde hair so that it shone, like a _halo_ , Daryl thought, though he never did think much of angels. She looked at him sadly, with a hint of concern, then raised the washcloth to his cheek. Initially, she hesitated, keeping her hand suspended in the air, almost like she was going to pull away from him, but Daryl was still - unmoving, and she changed her mind, in a split second, touching the fabric to his cheek.

It was hot, but pleasantly so - a cleansing sort of hot, and gently, she wiped downwards, smearing away whatever was still on his face - blood, sweat, dirt, tears - all of it, on the back of some ratty old hand towel someone had picked out, lovingly, before the world had gone to hell.

"You didn't," Beth said, her voice steady, bringing the cloth away from his skin and rinsing it back in the pot. Daryl looked down at the water, that had turned murky with just the one wipe of his face.

But Beth wasn't wincing. She wasn't frowning or turning her nose up - she was cleaning his face, touching him so gently, he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced anything quite like it. She took her time, working her way over his face, his cheekbones, nose, jaw, over his eyelids, even taking the time to brush the cloth over his ears.

And then, she was done.

She let the cloth sit back in the water and sighed at him, brushing some of her hair out of her face. "You gotta stop blamin' yourself Daryl," she said seriously, pushing herself back on the heels of her feet to sit back down on the couch.

"What if they don't let me back in?" Daryl asked in a whisper. "What if _they_ blame me?"

And there it was. His fear was out there, aloud in the air around them. Floating. Someone else had heard that fear - and not just someone else, but _Beth_ had heard it.

She looked back at him, narrowing her eyes so she could study him further. "They won't blame you," she said. "You have to know that."

He did, sort of. In the back of his mind, somewhere where logic still prevailed, he knew they wouldn't. Rick and Carl and Maggie and Rosita and Michonne and Carol - they'd all welcome him back in with open arms. It was _him_. He was carrying this guilt around - the shame of acting out, the repercussions of his actions being so severe and life altering. He didn't realize what else he'd had to lose. Selfishly, he'd been ready to die.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Beth suggested, nodding towards the couch opposite her. "I can keep watch."

"Nah," he said with the shake of his head.

"Daryl," she scolded. "You need to be well rested for tomorrow. So we can get to Alexandria. So we can get back to our family."

Her gaze was kind, but still stern, and although he truly wanted nothing more than to sit by the window all night, prying his eyes open so that he wouldn't fall back into the nightmares he dreaded so much, sleep really _did_ sound quite appealing at the moment.

So he climbed onto the couch behind him, getting into a comfortable spot, and let himself close his eyes.

* * *

The next thing he knew, it was morning. There was a bird - somewhere in the distance, chirping. It was _still_ an odd concept to him - that birds still chirped - still sung, like nothing around them had changed. He wondered if they ever even noticed the walkers - or did they think they were still all the same down here, roaming the earth, as they'd always been?

He was still lying on the ratty old couch, his head mashed into the side of it, probably indented with the pattern. Daryl shot up abruptly, still a little dazed, and looked around.

The cabin was still the same, the pots of water lay, virtually untouched next to him - the dirty hand towel, still dipped into one. He went to a clear one, cupped his hands to dip them in and brought the water to his mouth to drink hungrily.

Once he'd had his fill, he stood up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Beth?" he called.

The place _felt_ empty. The fire was long since put out, the floorboards beneath him silent except for his own movements. When he looked towards the front door though, he noticed, the coffee table was pushed aside.

That made his heart pick up its pace, and all of the sudden panic set in as he lunged towards the broken door, flinging it open and running outside. The knife he'd swiped the day before weighed his pocket down and swiftly, he grasped it in his right hand at the base, ready to plunge it into the first threat he saw.

"Beth?" he exclaimed, a bit more frantic this time. His eyes took in the surroundings - a little different now in the early morning light. It still smelled like dawn - dew drops coated the grass, the crisp smell of fresh air hanging high in the sky. If he hadn't been so panicked in that moment, he may have really enjoyed it.

The grounds were empty by first glance, but towards the right of the house the grass had been imprinted upon by a pair of boots.

 _Beth_.

He jumped towards them like an animal, following them around the walls of the house - cautious, hoping and praying and _pleading_ with whoever was up there in the sky listening to him, that nothing had happened to her and he wasn't about to come upon some nasty surprise - or worse, nothing at all.

The footsteps disappeared beyond the back of the house and to his relief, a blonde head was visible in the distance. She was hunched over what looked like a pile of junk.

"Beth," Daryl hissed, and she spun, quickly on her heel, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

Her hand flew to her chest, right over her heart and she caught a breath. "Daryl!" she exclaimed in surprise. "You scared the crap outta me!" she laughed.

"What the hell are ya doin' out here?" Daryl asked, a little frustrated.

"Look," Beth said, motioning for him to come closer. "I think luck is on our side."

It was, in fact, a pile of junk, made up from old cans, bulging garbage bags someone had tried to discard of, mud, leaves, and, Daryl was fairly sure there were some animal bones in there too. Beth had started moving some of the top layer away to reveal what looked like a hunk of metal.

"I think someone hid this here," she said, using her foot to toe away some of the junk. And then, Daryl realized what he was looking at. A bicycle.

"Oh!" he said, in realization. Without hesitating, he reached his arms down, to pull the bike away from the rubbish.

It was silver - rusted in a few spots, but the tires seemed to be in good condition, the gears and chain were still in tact. He propped it up on the ground and had a good look at it.

"Looks alright," Daryl commented with a shrug. It'll certainly make our trip a lot easier once we get to a road."

Truth be told, he wasn't all that thrilled with the idea of riding a bike. He'd barely ever learned himself. Merle had give him a half-assed lesson, then sent him on his way when he was seven. He'd come back with a sprained wrist and a black eye.

"We should get movin'," Beth observed, and Daryl nodded in agreement.

The pair went back to the cabin, had a small breakfast of cooked oats, refilled some of the empty water bottles they'd drunk with the fresh rainwater, and then, with the bike on Daryl's shoulders, headed out in search of the road that would lead them back to Alexandria.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Whew! NaNoWriMo has been kicking my butt! This draft has been sitting on my computer for a while now, and I just had some inspiration to finish. Hope you guys like it - thanks for reading and please leave a review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

The road came quickly, more quickly than Daryl thought it would at least, and his shoulders sagged with relief as he placed the bicycle down on the pavement. Beth was standing in the middle of the road, legs slightly apart, her hand flat at her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. She was squinting into the distance, maybe trying to make out some sort of sign that would send them in the right direction.

He paused for a moment, watching. She looked like a painting, he thought - Beth, a bright mix of yellows, orange and blues, against the dreadful gray pavement and heavy deep green and brown trees.

She turned to look at him, her chin to her shoulder, and gave him a smile.

"You ready?" she asked.

He nodded, grabbing the bike by the handlebars and guided it over towards her. The spokes ticked as he did so, until he stopped beside her, throwing his leg over the seat and getting comfortable.

"Get on," he grumbled, motioning towards the handlebars and she looked at them, a little spark of humor in her eyes. She did as she was told, turning her back to him, then hoisted herself over, on top of the handlebars.

Beth was a little thing, no doubt, but the front of the bike still sagged with her weight, and when he took off, the bike wobbled a bit until they found their balance. Her tiny fingers found his hands, gripping the raw skin on his knuckles for dear life.

They moved along, picking up their speed along the way. The muscles in his legs ached as he pedaled, after being manhandled for a few days, then all that running yesterday - a strange sleep on a lumpy couch, he supposed he wasn't in the best shape to be riding a bike. But the wind still felt nice against his skin and although he had a hard time even admitting it to himself, having Beth so close was a nice change of pace after the lonely weeks he'd had prior.

Daryl leaned forward with the momentum, pedaling like crazy. Beth seemed to be enjoying the ride and as they rode, she threw her head back, the tail of her ponytail tickling his nose, then, sticking to his lips. He sputtered, trying to spit it out.

"Sorry!" he heard her shout from in front of him, trying to twist to take a look at him. It was the shift of her body that did it - their balance was thrown immediately and they tumbled over, his shoulder and leg hit first, the bike handing on top of him, Beth's shoulder collided with his jaw, her head with his own as they crumbled into a ball on the side of the road.

She was shuddering - crying, he thought immediately and he tried to lift his head in concern.

"Beth?" he muttered, looking towards the side, to make sure she was okay. When she came into his line of sight, he realized, she wasn't crying - she was _laughing_.

Her mouth was open, eyes up towards the sky, body flat on the ground, but she was laughing - a deep belly laugh, that he wasn't sure she could help and despite himself, a grin spread across his face as he watched her and a chuckle came out, somewhere, somehow from the depths of his chest, and he laid back on the solid ground to let it roll out of him.

The moment hung in the air, the two of them, laying side by side with the bike across their legs, staring up at the sun. What a ridiculous sight that must of been, Daryl thought, his laugh dying off. It made him suddenly and inexplicably sad that no one had been around to see it.

A groan broke through the silence, echoing in the distance, bringing him immediately back to reality. Daryl shot upwards, pulling the bike up as he did so. "C'mon," he instructed Beth. "We got company."

She flew to her knees, then to her feet, face washed over with concern, her eyes looking towards the woods, then back at the bike.

From the corner of his eye Daryl saw the outline of a walker emerge with a grunt, stumbling lazily after them. But Daryl had righted the bike and taken a seat and helped Beth up over the handlebars again before it even cleared the tree line.

* * *

They'd encountered a sign about twenty minutes into their journey which told them they were going in the wrong direction, so they'd turned around. Now sure that they were headed towards somewhere that might feel like _home_ , Daryl felt himself grow anxious.

Time wore on, and the sun moved above them, hovering over the landscape, warming their bodies. After about an hour or so, Beth had offered to walk, but Daryl wouldn't have it, even though his legs were on fire.

"Well, let's at least stop and have a drink of water and somethin' to eat," she said.

"Alright," he replied, maneuvering the bike over towards the side off the road. The pair hopped off, ventured to the tree line where the shade was generous, then dug into their backpack. They landed on two jars of pears and half of a granola bar each.

They ate in silence, both of them quite obviously hungry and enjoyed the still for a minute. That was, until it was disturbed.

Daryl knew it was a truck before he even saw anything in the distance and he grabbed the bag and Beth's arm in a swift motion before dragging her to retreat into the woods, her mouth still full of granola bar.

"Daryl, wh—?"

"Sh!" he hissed at her, fingers to his lips. He pushed her behind a tree, then ducked behind another beside her, motioning for her to do the same.

He peeked out to look at the road. There was a white van moving at a relatively slow pace down the road past them. Behind that, another large truck followed. As he squinted he could see a man leaning out the passenger window of the second truck, smoking a cigarette. As it drove away from them, he could see an open back with two men armed with assault rifles, glancing around at their surroundings.

"Wait!" he heard one of them call, pounding on the side of the truck with a _bang_.

Daryl's heart dropped. He looked at Beth who had her back to the tree bark now, her eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily.

He looked back at the man who had jumped off the truck. He was scoping the road and surrounding land, eyeing something by the side of the road, and Daryl saw what he was looking at - the bicycle. Clearly laying abandoned at the side of the road, it was a _dead_ giveaway that there were others around.

"What is it?" the other man, still inside the truck asked.

"Just a fucking bike," the man mumbled, way too close for Daryl's comfort. He could make out the rips in his jeans, the wrinkles on his brow. They could bolt, Daryl thought, but it was too much of a risk for two of them. Maybe these guys would just grab the bike and head on. God, please, let them just grab the bike and head on.

"C'mon," the other man urged. "Gotta get to Alexandria before night fall. Negan don't want no _god damn_ bike."

The man outside the truck gave it another look, then his eyes shifted, glancing towards the trees. Daryl slid back behind the thick bark that was shielding him, his eyes closed, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Alright," the man said. Daryl peeked out to see him climb aboard the truck again.

And just like that, they were gone.

They sat by the trees quietly for a few minutes. Daryl wanted to stay back for a few more minutes, just to make there were no stragglers following up the rear.

It was clear, Negan and his men were headed towards Alexandria. Most likely to look for their newest escapees, Daryl thought miserably. Well, he and Beth wouldn't be able to make it to Alexandria tonight. There'd be too much of a risk of getting caught - or getting the others in trouble. They couldn't risk it today.

After another moment or so, Beth stood up from where she'd been kneeling and dusted off her knees, then looked at Daryl with sad eyes. "Guess we aren't headin' to Alexandria now, are we?" she asked him.

He shook his head, meeting her eyes with his own. "We'll find a place to stay for the night. They shouldn't stay longer than that," he said.

She let out a sigh and stuck her thumbs through the belt loops on her pants. "Okay," she said with finality. "Let's find a place then."

* * *

The sun was threatening to set when they found it - a little shack of a place. The sign out front labeled it "Woody's Tavern" in peeling white letters over a flat wooden sign. The door that sat on a wide, wrap-around porch, was still in tact and they approached it carefully, not sure what they'd find inside.

The door swung open, a thick screen that covered a flimsy wooden door. The inside of the place was cramped and dark. To the left, a small bar that had clearly been looted, with a few seats scattered about. To the right, a few booths, a small and worthless jukebox and on the back wall were three doors - two that led to bathrooms, another that said "Office".

Beth entered behind him, closing the door gently, shrouding them completely in shadows. She took in the surroundings too, though a bit more curiously than Daryl. He wondered briefly if she'd ever been inside a bar before.

The place might have once been cool. It might have once been a place he'd have frequented, had things not turned out the way they did. Down a few whiskeys before going back home - enough to give him a good buzz to help him deal with Merle or his father. He never had much to go home to.

The walls were made from wood with all sorts of different framed photos and posters - silly sayings like "Attention: Please Be Patient With the Bartender. Even a Toilet Can Serve Only One Asshole At a Time." Behind the bar, someone had written sloppy specials on the chalkboard - hardly visible now from the dust that covered it.

The mirror that hung behind the bar had been shattered, probably by some drunk who had come in to drink all the booze. Daryl noticed there wasn't much left of the bar - most of the bottles had either been shattered or taken and a quick jump over the bar and scan through the cupboards told him there wasn't anything to write home about underneath either. Not that he'd wanted to drink anyway - there was too much at stake right now to get stupid.

Beth took refuge in one of the booths, sitting back all the way to the end and kicking her boots up. "Might be able to sleep on one of these," she commented casually, bouncing up and down on it.

"Mmhm," Daryl responded, going towards the back doors. He knocked on each one, waiting for a sound - but none came. The place must have been cleared by the looters.

Curious, he peeked into each door - the bathrooms still smelling of stale piss and mildew, but the office remained empty and relatively untouched. He entered, the room feeling a little claustrophobic. In the center of the room was an empty desk, a lonely red chair behind it. In each of the corners were two heavy bookshelves, covered with a variety of knick-knacks, books, and movies.

He scanned them, fingering the spines of the books, leaving a trail with his finger in the dust on the shelf. As he moved down, he eyed something interesting - an unopened deck of cards.

Well, it was something to pass the time - so he snatched it, then went back out to the bar.

Beth was still sitting in the booth, and she looked up at him as he emerged. Those blue eyes, the ones he could never get sick of, still shined in the dark, dank building they'd stumbled across. He was drawn to them - to her. Each time he saw that stare again, he was painfully reminded of how he'd lost her. And then, just as quickly, brought back to the present, when he'd found her again. His heart soared when she looked at him and he still struggled to understand _why_.

Instead of dwelling on it though, he came towards her, revealing the cards in his hand. "Wanna play?" he asked her.

She nodded.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** It's December! I'm sorry for the delay between chapters, but I promise now that NaNoWriMo is over, I'll be able to post much more regularly. Thanks for everyone who is still following along - this story is moving much slower than my other Bethyl stories, but I hope you all don't mind. Beth and Daryl are both in really crap places right now, and I really want to build up their relationship so that's…where my intentions lie. :)_

 _As always, thank you for reading, favoriting, following and please leave a review!_


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

They'd played crazy eights, War, their own respective game of solitaire and gin rummy before they finally gave up on the cards and decided to have a bite to eat. It was clear, from the deepening shadows on the outside of the front door, that the sun was starting to go down.

The building somehow felt smaller as it darkened outside. Beth had swiped a candle from one of the booth tables that was almost burnt down to the end of the wick - but it worked for the time being.

Despite the low candlelight Beth seemed to feel the claustrophobia too, because after she'd finished eating, she jumped up from the booth and began to explore. After a moment, she disappeared behind the bar, and Daryl heard bottles clinking as she searched through the cabinets and underneath where he'd already looked through when they first got here. Finally, she popped up behind the wooden structure, her face flushed pink, a fresh sweat on her upper brow.

She was scoping for booze, he knew. He didn't mind if Beth wanted to drink. Hell, she probably _needed_ a drink. And so did he - but he wouldn't risk it. _Couldn't_ risk it. Not tonight. He wasn't ready to let himself go like that quite yet.

Daryl heard her continue on towards the office he'd explored as he shuffled the deck of cards in his hands. The door snapped shut behind her, enveloping her in that dark little room. She came back out immediately and cleared her throat.

"Can you bring me that candle and hold the door?" she asked him.

He looked up at her from where he sat. "What for?" he asked innocently, cocking an eyebrow.

She looked at him as though it were obvious. "I want somethin' to drink."

"Thought so," he said.

"You got somethin' to say about it?" she asked, raising her own eyebrow at him. It was a threat he wouldn't take her up on.

"Nah," he said. "Could probably use one myself," he admitted. She gave a small smile, "but I won't," he continued. "Can't." She frowned. "One of us's gotta stay sober."

"Ain't nothin' findin' us in this dump," Beth said, leaning back against the door with her arms crossed. He felt her gaze on his shoulder. "C'mon and hold the door for me," she continued. "Please?"

Begrudgingly, he got up from where he sat, groaning from his stiff bones. He was sore from the bike ride earlier that day, and then from sitting for so long. He straightened out with a few cracks in his spine, grabbed the dying candle, and went to hold the damn door for Beth.

She grabbed the candle then moved around in the small room, uttering a few profanities as she walked into things. He heard a bang of metal - she might have been in the desk now, then a _clang_ , before she walked out, her hands behind her back.

"Got what you wanted?" he asked, watching her curiously as she wandered over to the booth.

With a loud _bang_ , she revealed a glass bottle, slamming it on the table, the liquid inside sloshing from side to side, before it settled. "Yep," she replied staring at it. A moment passed, before she took two fingers to screw off the top of it, brought the bottle to her lips, and took a swig.

It burned her throat, he could practically feel it, from the face she made, swallowing it, then opening an eye to take him in. He smirked at her, then came back to the booth to sit across from her. "Well good. Better than the moonshine?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Dunno," she said honestly. "I don't really taste much of a difference."

He took he bottle into his hands. _Macallan 30_ , it read. He shook his head as he looked back at Beth. "No difference?" he asked slowly. "You sure?"

Beth snatched the bottle back from him. "Don't got as much _experience_ with alcohol as you do," she mocked, taking another sip - this time, notably smaller than the first.

"Back in the real world, this shit'd cost ya a couple thousand dollars," he declared. "And you think it's the same as _moonshine_?" he asked. "You're crazy, girl."

"What's it matter?" she asked, pointedly. "Money's a thing of the past."

"Good whiskey!" he exclaimed, pointing at the bottle. "That's what matters. You can't taste any difference?"

She took another shot with a shrug.

"Better gimme that bottle," he demanded. " _Someone_ needs to appreciate this."

She grinned, then pushed the glass bottle across the table at him. "Thought you didn't wanna drink?" she asked.

He thought about it for a moment. His conscious was pulling him into two different directions, the rational side of him screaming at him to keep it together. Stay level-headed and clean. The alcohol would poison him, pull forward the deepest, darkest thoughts that he'd worked so hard to hide away. But the other part of him - well, the other part of him didn't care much at all. Being here, with Beth. The uncertainty outside. Did a drink or two _really_ matter at this point?

Daryl took the bottle in one hand and brought it to his lips, taking a long swig, letting the alcohol settle in his mouth, before he gulped it down.

* * *

A few drinks later, Daryl was warm and Beth was tipsy - he knew because she was red in the cheeks and asking him question after question. She'd asked about Alexandria, what it looked like, how the houses were set up, what the sermons were like at the church with Father Gabriel. With a tiny pang of guilt, Daryl had to admit to her that he hadn't yet attended one.

She'd asked about the group - about Rick and Michonne and Carol, and when she finally got the courage to ask about Judith and Daryl had told her how much she'd grown, Beth's eyes brimmed with tears and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

"D'you ever wonder what might have happened?" she asked, fingering the label on the glass bottle. Her eyes were glossy, and she was speaking to him, but not looking at him. She focused on the amber liquid inside the bottle.

"Whatta mean?" he asked.

"If we stayed at that funeral home," she said, her voice low, almost in a whisper. She did look up at him then, large eyes under her curved lashes. She looked curious - beautiful, but not seductive. An innocent, inquisitive sort of stare. "If I never got taken to Grady?"

"All the time," he confessed immediately, the alcohol making him feel loose-lipped. And that had been the truth. He'd thought about that _what if_ for months afterwards. It became an obsession - something to think about when the days got really bad. A fantasy that carried him away - staying there in that cozy house, the outside world behind closed doors, never bothering them. All the pigs feet and peanut butter in the world.

He looked at his hands - still dirty and calloused with small chewed up fingernails at the ends. He pretended to examine them, not daring to meet Beth's gaze.

"I do too," she breathed. "Dream about it sometimes. What might have been." He looked up at her at the proclamation, his hair hanging in front of his face. He made no motion to move it away, but he watched her as she spoke. She was beginning to tear the label off the bottle of whiskey with her fingernail.

"Yeah?" he said quietly. He wanted to hear this - what Beth Greene dreamt about. That she thought about him. Them - their time together.

She nodded, still scratching at the label - her eyes concentrated on her mundane task. "It might have been nice to stay, don't you think?" she asked him, still in that innocent sort of way. "To have a place to call _home_. Keep that stupid dog around. Eat the rest of that food."

Daryl nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Woulda been nice."

Beth took another sip from the bottle, then offered it back to Daryl. He took it and allowed himself another generous gulp.

"Did you feel something, that night, before Grady?" Beth asked again, her voice a little hesitant. She was staring at him now - a different kind of stare, much more serious and intent.

"Whatta mean?" Daryl asked, the liquor burning his esophagus. He met her gaze, feeling a little intimidated.

"Somethin'," she asked, "with us?"

His stomach felt like it dropped to his knees and he was suddenly very aware of how quickly his heart was beating. The pounding was in his ears, and he couldn't look away from her. She was searching his face and he couldn't find his words that he thought maybe he wanted to say, so he just said, "I—I dunno," and took another swig from the bottle.

She watched him fumble with his hands, but didn't push the question - in fact, she stopped talking completely, laying flat on her back in the booth, disappearing from his line of sight.

Disappointment flooded his body and he wished he'd said something different, but he didn't know why she was asking or how to respond to the question. He didn't know what she wanted or what she was thinking and he hated it.

"Daryl?" her voice came from the booth opposite him where she was laying. The disappointment disappeared, replaced with anticipation and he waited impatiently for her to say something else - to ask him again - if he'd felt something, but she didn't. Instead she said, "Can you blow out the candle?"

"Sure Beth," he replied, blowing it out.

With a sigh, he laid down on his own booth, thinking about the funeral home once more.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

Someone was touching his shoulder. Soft fingers at his bare arm, brushing him. It was Beth - he'd know her touch anywhere. She was so close. So gentle. Warm. Then, the brushing turned into nudging which turned into tugging and sleep fell away as he opened his eyes.

It took him a minute to remember where he was. He woke disoriented a lot, often wondering if anyone else was the same way - sometimes he was back in the old trailer with Merle and his pops. Sometimes he was back at the prison. And sometimes, like he'd admitted to Beth last night, he dreamt he was back at the funeral home.

The building was still dark and musty and his back felt like _hell_. He turned to the side and cracked an eye open. She was there, looking tired and a little frantic, biting her lip. Her eyes traveled over his face, examining him.

"Daryl," she was saying with another tug on his arm. "Wake up."

"Whassit?" he managed to mumble, his throat feeling dry from the whiskey. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up. A dull headache was throbbing in the back of his brain. He should have drank some water before he fell asleep.

"It's mornin'," she said, pointing towards the front door. A sliver of bright light shone through. Daryl squinted at it. "We should get movin'."

She was right, but Daryl needed a minute to get himself back together. "Alright," he said with a nod. "Where's that water?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Beth pulled the backpack up from the floor, fished around a bit and pulled out a bottle of water which she rolled over to him across the table. He grabbed it, twisted off the cap and downed the entire thing. He let a big breath of relief go before he stood up, straightened up and slung the backpack over his back.

Outside the air was perfect - a little cold, but after being cooped up in that bar, it was welcome against their skin.

"Think the bike's still there?" Beth asked him as they began to walk.

"Maybe," he replied. "But not worth it to go all the way back. Reckon we're only a few miles off from Alexandria by now."

Her face lit up. "Really?" she asked. "That close?"

"I think," he said. "Should be able to get there by lunch time." His voice was even, but he was still terrified to show up at Alexandria's gates. Beth would be a welcome addition - a gift, a _miracle_ , especially to Maggie. But Daryl - he feared they'd be reluctant to welcome him back.

"You okay?" Beth asked from beside him, peering up at him in concern, somehow _knowing_ what he was thinking. She had that talent, it seemed, being able to feel what others were feeling. Daryl was rotten at figuring out how other people felt. And he was content with that, he liked to think.

"Yeah," he said, focusing on the earth in front of him.

"You're not," she observed casually. "I can tell."

He sighed in defeat. "It's going to be a difficult reunion between me and some of 'em at Alexandria," he said.

"Daryl," she said softly.

"It is," he said with a shake of his head. "I know you think differently, but - I just don't feel good about what happened. I shouldn't've been so selfish. I shoulda thought that shit through and I just…" he let a breath go, "didn't. And Glenn paid for it. It's my fucking fault."

"Negan woulda killed him anyways Daryl, Dwight even told you that. You gotta let that thought go. It's gonna destroy you," she said very seriously. "You can't hold onto that."

"I don't know how _not_ to," he admitted, surprising even himself as he said it out loud. "I just…don't know what Rick's gonna say - what _your sister's_ gonna say."

Beth's fingers grasped his forearm tightly, stopping him in his tracks. "Maggie ain't gonna blame you Daryl," she said sternly. "I _know_ my sister. This isn't your fault. You didn't put that bat in Negan's hands."

"I—," he trailed off, the anger and the pain and the sadness bubbling inside of him like a pot about to boil over. He wanted to believe Beth. He wanted to believe that Rick and Maggie would forgive him, but first, he supposed, he had to forgive himself.

And all of the sudden, she was hugging him - much like she had back at the moonshine cabin, then again in his prison cell, her arms tight around his middle, head nestled under his chin and he lay in her arms, limp and useless, trying to make sense of his fears.

"You gotta forgive yourself Daryl," she was saying into the crook of his arm, her breath hot on his skin. "Put the guilt away."

The advice sounded familiar and he appreciated it, leaning into the hug she was offering him. It felt good to be touched - he'd almost forgotten what it was like.

"C'mon," Daryl said with a small nudge. "We're wastin' time."

Beth released him and placed her hand at his chest. "You're worth it Daryl," was all she said, before turning around to continue their journey.

Through that guilt and the pain that had reared its ugly head, Daryl felt warmth spread from his cheeks, all the way to his toes.

* * *

As he'd expected, come lunch time, Beth and he stumbled across the abandoned houses that were scattered across the front of Alexandria - the same familiar road they'd driven down the first time they'd been led here by Aaron.

"Wow," Beth breathed as they came around the corner of one of the houses. Sure enough, in the distance, were the impressive walls of Alexandria. "This is _incredible_."

She sped up her pace, walking quickly down the main road, weaving in and out of the cars that scattered the road.

"Beth!" he called after her, needing to jog to keep up with her. "Wait—."

She stopped in her tracks, looking back at him, and reached out her arm to him, fingers extended and outstretched, calling for his own in that very _Beth_ sort of way.

He reached out for her too, intertwining their fingers, and they walked up to the gate, hand-in-hand, together.

* * *

 **A/N:** I realize I could have probably combined chapters 8 and 9, but I'm just getting back in my fan fiction writing groove, so hope you all don't mind. And we're finally at Alexandria! Just a disclaimer that, I'll probably pull some things from this season of TWD, but this will stay a very Beth/Daryl centric story.

Thank you to everyone still reading and reviewing and enjoying this story. I'm really loving writing it. I know I have a few other stories still floating around in the fan fiction universe and I have no intention of abandoning them either, but I'm just really feeling this story right now. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

Her grip on him was tight, practically cutting off his circulation. And she was eager, that was obvious. Daryl was a bit more hesitant, trying to take smaller steps - but Beth wouldn't have it.

As they came closer to the gate, Daryl observed the dirt in the road - the very recent tire tracks that led in, and even more recent ones that led out. It looked like the trucks that Negan had sent to Alexandria were gone, and they were in the clear.

The gate rose up into the sky, somehow less impressive then he remembered - though maybe that had something to do with how downtrodden he felt since the encounter with Negan. He wasn't ready for the questions, for the side-eyed stares, the _blame_. He wasn't ready to give up the companionship with Beth, either.

Now, for the second time, they'd been thrown together in a strange journey and he hoped the bond he felt with her was real and not something forced because they _needed_ to be together. He looked over at her - bright Beth, her knotted blonde hair cascading down her back, eyes wide and hopeful looking up at the gate.

She turned her head towards him and smiled, her eyes brimming with tears.

"You ready?" he asked her, his voice sounding heavy and gruff.

She nodded, eagerly.

He nodded with a grunt, then took his fist to the gate and knocked.

Slowly, the gate rolled back, revealing a stretch of road and suddenly, Daryl was brought back to the first time they'd entered these gates when Nicholas had pulled it back. Rick, holding Judith, Daryl and Noah, still reeling from what he thought had been the death of Beth. Glenn - leading them all inside, and Abraham, pulling up the rear.

This time, it wasn't Nicholas who rolled the gate back. It was Rosita, wearing her usual hat, jeans and sleeveless tee. She looked exhausted and distraught, her face drained of color and sad. Not very much different from the last time he'd seen her.

"Daryl?" she spluttered out in disbelief, and he nodded, walking up to her and embracing her in a hug. "But how?" she was saying, shaking her head in disbelief. They broke apart, and she took in Beth, raising an eyebrow at her. "And who—?"

"Beth," she introduced herself, sticking out her hand for a shake, like the world still hadn't gone to hell.

"Where are you from?" Rosita asked quickly, her suspicion obvious on her tongue. "Not from—?"

"Where's Maggie?" Daryl heard himself say, cutting her off. "We need to see Maggie."

"Why?" Rosita asked, "what…?" And then he heard her voice falter - shudder, before she made the connection. "Beth? Maggie's Beth?"

Daryl looked down the main road at the community they were about to enter, then back over his shoulder at Rosita, who was still standing in front of Beth with her arms crossed, looking her up and down, like she couldn't believe she was real. "Yes," Daryl answered.

Rosita shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words. "Stranger things have happened," she breathed.

"Rosita," Daryl said sternly. " _Where's Maggie_?"

"Maggie's not here," Rosita said distractedly, still staring at Beth. "She's at the Hilltop."

"But she's okay? She's alive?" Beth asked, her voice quivering.

Rosita nodded. "Of course she is," she said. "But you—" she continued, "Jesus, you were _dead_. We were all sure of it."

Beth nodded at her, understanding. "As good as dead," she corrected her. "It was a miracle."

"Beth healed up at Grady. She's been at the Sanctuary," Daryl explained quickly. "We got out together. _Dwight_ helped us."

Rosita frowned at him. "The guy with the burns on his face? That Dwight? You sure?" she asked skeptically. "We're talking about the same guy?"

Daryl nodded at her. "Reckon he might be the ticket to takin' down Negan." He motioned for Beth to come near him. "We're gonna go see Rick," he called back to Rosita. "See you."

She nodded them off, and Daryl and Beth continued down the road, Daryl making a beeline for the house he had been sharing with Rick, Michonne, Judith and Carl before Negan. Before the Sanctuary. Before Beth. He was walking so quickly that he barely noticed Beth fall back. She was walking more slowly, taking in her surroundings.

Her mouth was open as she watched some of the kids kick around a soccer ball in one of the open fields - the normalcy was mind-boggling, Daryl knew the feeling well. The first time they'd stepped foot in Alexandria his head had spun - he felt like he had been in a dream. It didn't feel real. It didn't feel _right_.

The trees around them were full, the grass still as green as he remembered, sidewalks clean - shrubbery trimmed. The houses were something else too - two story monstrosities with more bedrooms and bathrooms than Daryl's entire childhood town. It was almost comical - him, in that setting. But Beth - she deserved something like this.

"This place," Beth was whispering, jogging to catch up to him, " _How_?"

Daryl let a small chuckle go through his teeth. "They got lucky here," he said. "Led a herd of zombies away that had been collecting in a quarry a while back. Never got attacked. Lived like nothin' had ever happened."

"Until Negan," Beth reminded him, quickening her pace to stay by his side.

He nodded, looking straight ahead. "Until Negan."

The house that the Grimes, Michonne and Daryl lived in was a slate grey color, with white trim.. It had a good view over the wall, a nice porch in the front, wide windows on each level. At first, Daryl had hated it. Everything about it - the cleanliness of it, those stainless steel appliances, but it continued to grow on him. And now, as they came up to the walk in front of it, he realized, he was actually quite fond of it.

"This is it," he mumbled, glancing over at her. She seemed to nod her head, so he made his way up the front stairs, to the door, swung it open and stormed in. "RICK?" he bellowed into the house.

Carl came first, rushing into the room with his finger to his lips, waving his hands like a lunatic. "Judith just went down for a nap! Shaddap!" he hissed, his glare widening as he realized who it was walking through the door. "Fuck," he said, stopping in his tracks to look Daryl up and down with his one un-bandaged eye.

Beth came around the side of Daryl and Carl took her in next, his mouth dropping, searching for the words to express the disbelief he was feeling.

"Hi Carl," Beth said.

"Beth?" It came out as a whispered question. "Is that…is it…it can't be…you?" he managed to sputter out.

And then Rick appeared, shaggy hair and shadow of a beard, his blue eyes looking sad and tired, as he had been lately and he saw Daryl, then looked at Beth, back to Daryl, and then doubled back to Beth.

"Well, I'll be," his thick southern accent cried out as he started forward, placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder, then turning to Beth, his hand at her face, on her shoulders, then wrapped around her, like he wanted to make sure she was a real person.

All at once, Beth was crying and Rick was crying and he reached out for Daryl to come in and join the embrace, which he did - head on Rick's shoulder, arm around him with a small squeeze. He'd missed this man - his _family_.

"Hey!" Carl commented from beside them. "Don't I get _any_ love?"

Beth laughed through her tears, moving away to embrace Carl, and Daryl finally felt like they were _finally_ back home.

* * *

Night came.

Daryl and Beth had opted to stay inside the house, away from curious eyes and the bombardment of questions Daryl knew would inevitably come. They wanted to be ready for that - and after such a long journey and their time at the Sanctuary, they just weren't. Yet.

Beth had spent most of the afternoon snuggling Judith. Michonne had quite the shock when she came through the door after her watch at the wall, but once she'd been calmed down and squeezed Beth until she was absolutely sure she was real, the group enjoyed some food. Now, they sat together in the living room before a fire that Daryl had built. Beth was in the corner of the sectional, wrapped up in one of those fuzzy blankets when Michonne smiled at her.

"Beth," she asked, breaking the silence. "Do you want to take a shower?"

Beth's eyes lit up, unlike anything Daryl had seen from her in a long time. Bright, wide-eyed - _happy_. "A shower?" she repeated to Michonne.

"Yes," Michonne nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "With _running water_."

Beth squealed - there was no other word for the sound that came out of her mouth. She was up from the couch in an instant and flew up the stairs on the heels of Michonne, clambering to the top and getting her shower. Daryl supposed he probably needed one too, so after bidding the rest of the Grimes a goodnight, he headed up towards what had once been his bedroom.

It was a plain room with a double bed and a few flimsy pillows. There was a nightstand beside the bed, which he'd usually lean his crossbow against and lay his gun and knife on top of. There was also a desk, which was his favorite part of the whole room. It overlooked the only window in the room that had a view over the wall. On either side were two narrow bookshelves which were filled with books someone had read, before all of this. On top of the desk, a simple lamp which he turned on.

Besides that, the room was bare. He knew Rick and Michonne and hung pictures of Carl and Judith up in their room, even decorating the walls with art that Michonne had come across inside other houses and politely asked to swipe. But Daryl wasn't much for decorating. The room was his, but you couldn't tell by the looks of it.

Someone had laid out fresh towels and clothes at some point during the day - Michonne or Carl most likely, and he took the pile into the attached bathroom. The bathroom had two doors - one leading in from his own room, and the other attached to a guest bedroom, where he supposed Beth might be staying. As he started the shower, he realized, he was comforted by the thought of her being so close.

The water was hot - too hot, probably - but in the most pleasant sort of way. It rolled through his hair, down his neck, over his back, turning the shower floor brown and he watched it as it rolled away through his toes, down the drain - the dirt and blood and god knows what else on his body, away.

He scrubbed. The soap that had been there from before was still here, and he scrubbed the hell out of his skin - trying to get the smell of that cell, the _feeling_ of the Sanctuary off of him.

Unsure of how long he was in the shower, he finally turned the water off, feeling slightly guilty about trying to get clean for so long, and stepped out, grabbing one of the towels, surprised when it came away from his body clean. The mirror was foggy, so he took a hand to clear it, glancing at himself under a shaggy mane to see his face.

He looked older. More tired, somehow. He supposed they all did - after what they'd been through. The lines on his face were visible, and he played with them a bit before he decided to get dressed. The clothes were comfortable - something to sleep in - a pair of baggy pants and a t-shirt.

He opened his door and went back into his bedroom towards the desk. One would have thought he'd be drawn to the bed - for rest, but he much preferred the desk with it's wooden chair and view over the wall. Grabbing one of the books from the shelves - Stephen King's "The Stand," he continued reading from where he'd left off the last time he'd been in the room.

Barely into the death of Larry Underwood's mother, Daryl heard the creak of a floorboard, then, the squeak of the door hinge.

His head snapped up, and he looked towards the open door of the bathroom.

She was standing there, her arms at her side, looking small and unsure of herself. Her hair was still wet from the shower, hanging down in long, lengthy strands that were beginning to curl up at the edges. She was toeing the floor with her foot.

"Hi," he said, putting the book back down on the desk. "You okay?"

She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then closed it again. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Unintentionally, he flushed. "I'm…reading."

She took another few steps into his room, arms behind her back. "What are you readin'?" she asked.

He held up the book for her which she glanced at briefly and then nodded. "It good?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "World ends in this book too. A 'lil different though," he added. "No walkers."

She let out a low laugh, "Must be nice," she commented. She was close to his bed now, her eyes studying it nervously. She sat down abruptly, bouncing with the springs.

"You…okay?" he asked awkwardly.

"Mmhm," she responded, still not looking at him.

"You sure?" he asked, feeling as though something wasn't right. She was being a bit too quiet for his liking.

"I—was wondering," she hesitated, taking a deep breath, "if I could…maybe…sleep in your room?" she asked. "I can take the floor," she offered.

Daryl turned the request over in his mind, looking at her. Small, fragile, wonderful Beth. A Beth that was still living, but just as damaged, if not more, than he was. She didn't want to be alone. And he was happy to oblige her. She was a person - a woman, who he had shared himself with.

"Nah," he said. "Take one side of the bed. It's big enough."

She put her chin to her shoulder and looked at him - really, looked at him. Gratefully. Gently. _Happy_.

"Just until I get used to my room. Okay?" she asked, like she was trying to reassure herself.

He shrugged. "Don't matter to me," he said simply.

She smiled at him, curled into herself, putting her back against the backboard of the bed. She sat up straight in the bed and watched him.

"This doesn't feel real," she said softly, hugging her knees to her chest.

"What?" he asked, feeling stupid.

"This," she said, spreading her arms out to indicate the room. "This place. This _house_. I don't even know if I can even sleep," she admitted.

"Well," he said, thinking, chewing his lower lip between his teeth as he did so, "don't gotta sleep. We could…go for a walk. Tire ya out a bit. Show you around this place when we don't got a million people starin' at us."

Her eyes widened at that and she nodded. "I'd like that," she said.

"Alright," he said with a nod, standing up from his chair. "Let's go."

With a bit of mischief in her eye, she grinned at him, and he took off for the door immediately.

With Beth behind him, the pair of them slipped out of the room, down the front stairs and out through the front door of the house. By the time they'd stumbled down the porch stairs, down into the grass on the side of the house, they were breathing heavily and Beth was _giggling_. It was a sound he'd been so certain he'd never hear again.

"Feel like I'm back at the farm," Beth whispered in between her giggles, "sneakin' outta the house."

"You?" Daryl asked, sounding a bit surprised. "Sneakin' out of your house? I don't buy it."

She nudged him with her elbow. "I did!" she hissed. "Once or twice!"

He chuckled, imagining Beth stealthily trying to sneak out right under Hershel's nose. "C'mon," he urged her. "Let's get explorin'."


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm Only Human**

* * *

The town of Alexandria was shrouded in shadows, moonlight illuminating the siding of the houses. Daryl loved coming out into Alexandria at night, when the moon was high in the sky. It was always quiet - everyone sleeping. It was one of the few times the world actually felt safe and silent. Of course, there was always someone on guard, and someone at the gate - but he could go about unnoticed for the most part.

It was the same now - quiet and still, the houses asleep - streets and sidewalks empty. He and Beth walked out across the grass onto the sidewalk, their footsteps echoing through the silence of the night.

"Okay" Beth said in a small voice. "So…tell me who lives where," she said casually, spinning on her heel to face the house beside the one they'd just exited.

"Alrigh'," he said. He pointed lamely to the house. "Tara, she's been with us since the prison. Rosita, Eugune, and…" he faltered for a moment, and dropped his arm, "Abraham." Beth's face turned to look at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. "They're family now - been with us for a while. Your sister and Glenn - came across them after the prison. Abraham he—" Daryl trailed off.

"Negan?" Beth asked, knowingly.

Daryl nodded.

She placed her hand on his bicep, giving him a reassuring rub. "Sorry," she said. "What was he like?"

"Army type," Daryl responded after a moment of thought. "Brave - a little rude, but he grows on you." He frowned. "Grew on you," he corrected himself.

He started walking again, Beth at his side, until they reached the next house. "And this one?" she asked quietly.

"This is Aaron and Eric's house," he said, brightening a bit at the thought of them. "You'll like them."

He met her eyes then when she looked at him again, big blue orbs, watching him delicately. Normally it made him uncomfortable when _anyone_ watched him - but for some reason, he didn't mind so much when she did it.

"Why's that?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Aaron - he's the one who found us all. Recruited us, I guess. Me and him, we went out tryin' to do the same thing." He thought for a minute, trying to give Beth a description of Aaron that did him justice. "He's good at readin' people. He's brave. He's strong as hell." He nodded, satisfied.

Beth was grinning at him now as she listened to him talk. "And Eric?"

"Don't know Eric as good, but he's Aaron's boyfriend. Husband, maybe?" he said with a shrug, "Not sure. But he's just as good as Aaron."

Beth nodded, looking at her feet. "Look at you," she said playfully, "makin' friends."

"Pfft," Daryl replied, moving on. He pointed out a few more houses, very thankful the house that Maggie and Glenn had been living in wasn't on the same street. He turned the corner at a cross-street. "C'mon," he said, making sure Beth was still behind him.

He made his way down the street, quickening his step, until he was right in front of Gabriel's church.

It was a beautiful building - white siding with stone pillars. Inside, a large stained glass window made up of gorgeous blues and greens and yellows. The inside held wooden pews with blue cushions - enough to fit almost everyone in town. With windows on all sides, it let in light from when the sun rose until the sun went down, every day. He knew Beth would love this place.

Daryl opened the double doors that led into the church, the inside dark, but still familiar, closing the doors behind them.

"Wow," Beth said, letting her voice echo off the walls.

Daryl stayed by the doors, nodding as he watched her. She was exploring - as she did, with a genuine curiosity that was hard to come by these days. She took in each pew, the cushions, the bibles, the alter - all very slowly and carefully - like she didn't want to miss one single detail.

Finally, he followed her, as she sat down on the steps of the alter, leaning back so that her legs were extended in front of her. He took a seat beside her and leant his head towards her. "Whatta think?" he asked.

"Think it's awful strange to be inside a church again," she said lightly. "Gabriel hold a lot of sermons?" she asked.

Daryl shrugged. "Dunno. Not much of a church guy."

Beth nodded knowingly. "Guess it's hard to imagine you goin' to Sunday service."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Guess it's hard to imagine you _not_ goin' to one."

"Sure," she chuckled. "But even you can appreciate how beautiful it is in here."

He grunted his agreement, starting to chew on his thumbnail.

"Always wanted to get married in a place like this," Beth commented, looking around again. "Small church with a big stained-glass window, you know?"

Daryl shook his head.

"What - didn't you ever want to get married?" she asked.

"Nah," he said absently. "Never thought it was worth the trouble."

She looked taken aback. "Surely you were quite the heartbreaker, Daryl Dixon."

He laughed at that, feeling inexplicably anxious. "Not me," he said. "Merle was always the one tryin' to get girls to sleep with him an' whatever. Never did know when to quit, my brother."

"Guess I could see that," Beth said. "Well I'm sure you were always a gentleman."

He grunted at that. "I was an idiot back then," he replied. "Anyway nobody was ever really worth the time. Too worried about what sorta trouble Merle was gettin' himself into."

"Really?" she asked, a little disbelievingly "Nobody was ever worth the trouble?"

The way she'd said the question was strange - the words pressed themselves against him, surrounding him, _asking_ him if he was sure. _Nobody_ _was ever worth the trouble_? Off the top of his head - no. But now? Was he still sure?

"Not then, no," he replied. He sat forward, bringing his hands into his lap, fumbling with them.

 _Then_.

She was looking at him now and he had to force himself to look back, their eyes meeting and something connected and felt like it was piercing his heart. Goosebumps erupted across his flesh, like a domino effect. All of his hairs were sticking up on end and the moment felt like it had stopped. Like he'd pressed pause on the TV remote.

He was painfully aware of himself - the length of his legs and his arms and his fingers and his fingernails. How his hair had dried after the shower, how chapped his lips felt, the tiredness he felt underneath his eyes.

And her - he was so aware of her. Her body felt warm next to his, and so close - closer than he'd realized when he sat down next to her. He tried to decipher her body language, but his doubts were clouding his judgement - something he'd always struggled with.

The thought of kissing her whizzed through his mind, and a jolt in the pit of his belly ignited something he hadn't felt in _years_. He was very aware now, that this feeling he felt towards Beth, this strange inexplicable feeling he'd been fighting away since she'd first _wanted a damn drink_ was one of wanting to be closer. Not just holding hands, or holding her, but _kissing her_ , and _feeling her_ , and holy fucking hell, that scared the crap out of him.

She gave him that look again - like she wasn't sure why he was looking at her the way she was - _curious_. About him. And the moment she looked down, then back up at him again, wide-eyed and tender, biting her lip as she did so - so shy and innocent and _beautiful_ , the jolt turned into a somersault and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He was sure she'd leaned forward, somehow - for some reason, wanting to get closer to him. His brain wasn't working, but he found a way to come in closer anyway, tilting his head, breathing her in - the scent that was purely Beth, sweet and floral and _wonderful_. He could hear her breathing, _feel_ it on his skin - his cheeks, his chin - his lips.

Their noses touched - their foreheads, her hair was touching his face. And just like that, he was close enough to kiss her.

He heard her take a shuddering breath, and then, she kissed him, her mouth taking his, and he let her. Beth Greene's lips were soft and plump and wet and perfect and Daryl was instantly intoxicated. Breathing her scent in, he leaned even more into the kiss, pushing their lips even closer together, opening his mouth just a bit to taste her even more.

She smiled as he kissed her, unable to stop himself now, and he felt his own lips curve upwards at the moment, at the insaneness of this all, at the thought that he was actually, somehow, kissing Beth. Beth Greene had been dead - she'd been gone, and he'd missed her. God, he'd missed her so fucking much.

That pain he'd felt, that he'd carried with him for so long, made him want her even more, so he brought a hand up to her face, almost like he wanted get even closer, although it was physically impossible. He ran his fingers up through her hair, feeling the flesh underneath that was jagged and scarred from her injury.

And just like that, she pulled away, putting her hand up to the side of her face, to her hair, flattening it against her face. "Daryl," she said, breathless from the kiss they'd just shared.

"M'sorry," he said, short on breath himself. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

She shook her head. "No, it's just," she looked down at her lap, "it's so horrible."

" _What's_ so horrible?" he asked, his eyes searching her face, his hand still suspended in midair from where she'd pulled away. His lips were still tingling from hers and he longed for her again, the touch of her lips against his - her taste, her smell.

"My scar," she said, still trying to flatten her hair against it. "From - the…"

His eyes widened at her. No part of Beth could ever be horrible - ugly scar or not. And Daryl was no stranger to the ugliness of scars. "It's not," he replied, extending his fingers just a little further to touch her face.

She let him, almost melting into his fingers, pushing her face into them, like she wanted him to touch her more, and so he did, pushing his fingers back towards her hair, brushing it away, gently. "It _is,_ " she tried to stress, but Daryl didn't listen. Instead, he looked - his eyes traveling over the raised flesh of the raised, red wound, skin sewed together like a puzzle on the side of her face.

"It ain't horrible," he said, meaning every single word. "It means you _lived_. Ain't nothin' _ever_ gonna be horrible about that."

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with gratitude, instead of fear - brimming with tears, which fell from each eye as she nodded her head at his words.

He wrapped his arm around her and lifted her into his lap, cradling Beth in his arms. _This_ was how things should have been - back at that funeral home, that night before the walkers attacked.

This was the way things were meant to be.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry guys, I was going to continue, but this just felt like the natural ending and I didn't want to force it. I MAY write a sequel but this just felt like a good place to leave Beth and Daryl for now. I really want to get my other few fics completed before I start anything new.

Thanks for reading, reviewing and being wonderful! :)


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